Birthdays and Memories. Life Moves Too Fast

After looking at the clock twice, and wondering where the time had gone this morning, I decided I had just enough time to squeeze in an email I’d been meaning to send all weekend regarding a project I’m about to start working on. It wasn’t going to be a short one, so I grabbed my laptop instead of using my phone, and stared at the screen for a moment, trying to pull my thoughts together. Within seconds of sitting, any thoughts towards completing the email were gone. Instead, my mind was taken away by the iCal prompt that popped on my screen.

As I stared at the two day advance birthday reminder, it immediately brought back a different reminder — that she was no longer here, and we would have no more earthly birthdays to celebrate together. I stopped and wondered why I hadn’t removed her name from my calendar yet. It only took that one alarm to take me back to years ago when we first met and became friends.

Cynthia was a few years older than me, but our birthdays were only 30 days apart. So we would make it a point of getting together every summer for breakfast at one of her favorite spots to celebrate us both. Sometimes it was in mid-May before I headed out on vacation. Other times in June, after I’d returned.

There were only two times when our annual get together got pushed out of the summer months. The first time was in 2012. So much was going on that year that it’s sometimes hard to wrap my head around it. Earlier that year I had a cancer scare, my thyroid, with questions that could only be answered by having my thyroid removed; something I was having a really hard time accepting. I had kept that news to myself, aside from my sisters, and had scheduled my surgery for June. When I sent my May 8 birthday greetings to Cynthia, I found out she had been keeping a similar secret from me (which explained why I hadn’t heard from her earlier in the year, as normally we’d talk). We did end up getting together that Fall, which SO much that happened in between that May text and our September brunch! But that’s for another blog.

Three years ago, in 2015, I did what I normally did, and texted her on her birthday. Following the usual back and forth, we talked about setting up our regular time together. Because of our schedules, this time was suppose to be in July. We were going to confirm the date and time later. I ended up teaching summer school that year, and perhaps that was part of my distraction, but I realized some time in early July that we had never confirmed. And I kept meaning to call or text her to set something up.

When I found myself joining another friend at the same location where Cynthia and I always went, I said to her, “you know, I’m suppose to be back here for brunch with Cynthia.” I remember thinking about the fact that I kept forgetting to get back to her, and had not heard from her. The last time we’d talked, things had gotten really hectic in her life. So I guess I assumed she’d gotten just as busy as I’d been.

It was later that very day when I saw a facebook posting from a girl I used to work with…a posting talking about Cynthia’s passing. She died in her sleep at a friend’s house. I couldn’t believe it had happened, or that I was finding out over social media; just as I had three years earlier with my brother’s death; part of that 2012 summer craziness that had previously delayed our annual brunch together. And now it had happened again.

I will admit I felt an incredible amount of guilt, which only added to my pain. I knew she had been going through a lot; especially since her thyroid cancer from three years earlier. Why hadn’t I called to check on her? Why did I get lazy about following up to set our appointment, knowing that she had come to mind several days earlier.

We can sometimes add to our level of grief by giving in to the super highway of guilt. It can literally drive us off the deep end. I know better, because I’d already been through it way too many times than I would have liked at that point. But that didn’t stop it from coming over me; especially the first few months after her death.

I will also remember May 8th. Because that date had previously had more meaning to me than just Cynthia’s birthday. But now it would come to be added as being the date that also was the last time I spoke to my friend before she died in her sleep just 2 1/2 months later.

“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” Psalm 147:3