When You're Ready, I'm Here

She is gone. A friend that I had for 14 years, someone that I didn’t talk to every day, but someone I always knew was there. When I met her, we were starting new jobs, and we immediately hit it off. I don’t usually make fast friends, but she was different. She was ambitious, passionate, calm, and a single Mom of 2 boys who were growing and full of life. We could talk about anything, sports, being inappropriate together about the topics, giving our honest takes about life things, and world events. And we understood each other. 

We would laugh and roll our eyes about the same things. How people told us to smile, how people told us what to wear, how people told us what women are “supposed to do,” and maybe most importantly, we would always check in. No matter what, we made time to say hi and to try new restaurants. She wasn’t my best friend, but she was the friend I needed as I was learning and growing. Because she was older than me, she had more life experience, and yet we just worked. 

When she called me and said the breast cancer had spread, I couldn’t speak. I was shocked and sad. Sad for me, sad for her journey ahead, and more sad for her sons; they needed her. Her goal was to make it as long as she could and to keep going until her oldest son could drive. And then it was until her oldest son finished high school. And the cancer continued to spread, and she continued to fight. She wanted to see her son graduate from college and for her youngest to know what was happening with his Mother, so she fought. 

But then, it continued to spread. She couldn’t work anymore, but she was still fighting, showing up for me, laughing with me, being a Mom trying to fight for as long as she could for her life, for her sons. She turned it into her battle cry; she was going to fight, and suddenly, one day, the phone rang, and I could hear it in her voice; she was tired. She was losing control. She asked me about my YouTube channel, and she wanted me to talk to her about sports. She could no longer talk to me like we used to, but my passion made her laugh, and my randomness made things feel normal.

Some of the last things she said to me were, "Check on my son if you can. He isn’t going to take this well, but you can connect with him through sports, and he adores you." She reminded me of the dreams I had when starting my channel. She told me she was so proud of how much I have grown and that I never stopped being myself. 

When the weeks passed, and I didn’t hear anything from her, I already knew what happened. I didn’t need someone to tell me; I could feel it. I felt off, I felt sad, and it reminded me that although Breast Cancer took her away from us physically, she no longer has to make those hard calls, she doesn’t have to fake it for us anymore. The only thing I haven’t been able to do is make contact with her son; he might be avoiding me, or I might not have the right number. But I know he is watching me, and I know there is a chance he might read this, so if he sees this before I am able to reach him, I want him to know, “I am here. She told me to reach out to you for a reason, and when you are ready, I will be here!” 

~ Until Next Time

Flawed