Wisdom observes that the rain falls on the good and the evil. Bad things and good happen on the say day. What looks to be a blessing now may be seen as a curse later and that which is seen as a curse or great misfortune now may later turn out to have been the best thing that could have happened. My mother always told me that “life isn’t fair.”

My friend went to bed Saturday night and never woke up. At this point, I have no idea why she never woke up. She was only 51 (several years younger than I am); she was energetic, full of life and love for her God, her children and her grandchildren (not to mention so many others in her life). She gave a lot, and gave up a lot, to be my setups boss for the most recent Women’s Cursillo in the Mobile Archdiocese. We disagreed about many things and, I believe, held each other in great respect and love through our different approaches. We agreed on many more things in this life. She frustrated me at times, and God knows I frustrated her. And we laughed and laughed and laughed in each other’s company.

She helped me to know that while I don’t have a strong personal devotion to the Rosary or to St. Joseph, what I can truly appreciate is the fact that she did. I will always treasure the special rosary she gave me this spring… the one crafted from one that I believe was her mother’s at one time. The one with the missing/broken bead and the St. Teresa of Avila medal carefully added by her (St. Teresa was our “Patron Saint” for the Women’s Cursillo this time around); Yes, she gave it to me with the missing bead, and pointed it out — we are not perfect, and it was so perfect in it’s imperfection.

There is a part of me that is screaming “Why?” and a part that is yelling “This is NOT RIGHT!” and an even bigger piece that is just downright mournful about that gaping ┬áhole that has been ripped in the fabric of my daily life by her untimely departure. I think of our discussions over the past few weeks and wonder about some of the things that we talked about: uncertainties about the future, not being sure which way we were being called to go, pain and hurt in some relationships, and healing that seemed to be happening almost in spite of us. I need to talk to her and share with her the pain of losing a friend and ask her help in dealing with it — and then it smacks me between the eyes that she can’t be there for me because she is the one that I’m missing.

Time will make this bearable. Time will bring perspective. It always does. One must walk through the loss and learn to love all that it has to teach. But, forgive me for wanting to jump ahead and skip this part.

‘Manda — I love you, and I miss you.