I’m getting ready for an annual training event. I’m excited to be going. Still, it will be bittersweet for me. You see, two years ago I had my last real conversation with my good friend Beth on my drive home from this event.
It was fairly common for us to call one another on long drives. Beth was fighting ovarian cancer. She was tired, but she was engaged in the conversation. That was on a Saturday afternoon. Monday she was back in the hospital. I visited her there. We talked, but I can’t call the few words of comfort we gave to one another were a conversation. I spent time with her once she was back at home, but my sweet, funny, wonderful friend wasn’t really there. We were buoying her spirits. We were making sure she was comfortable. Words were exchanged, at least at first. She was gone far too soon.
So, while I’m excited to get some extra training and see the new products, I know a part of me will be thinking about that last real conversation with my friend. Sometimes I still miss her so much that sometimes it’s physically painful.
I knew that my time with Beth might be short, but I had no idea that that conversation would be our last. We laughed about silly stuff. I told her I loved her. She told me she loved me. We had no unfinished business. There was nothing left unsaid. That conversation was no different than a thousand other conversations we’d had. Still, I remember.