On the way home from a long road trip a couple years ago, after Bill had the first chance to meet my best friend Amy and her family, he said to me, "Now I get it. You and Amy, I get it now." When I asked him what he meant, he said, "Well, you've always talked so much about her, about how much you like her and look up to her, but I always assumed it was rather one-sided. I'd never met two friends who felt that strongly about each other, but after meeting her and seeing you two together, it's obvious you two mutually have one of the strongest friendships I've ever seen. It was neat."
Amy and I are two peas in a pod, ever since we were 12 and 13 years old. We lost contact with each other not long after graduating high school, but I never forgot about her. When someone would ask me who my best friend was, she would come to mind, even though I hadn't seen or spoken to her in years. Then, in May 2008, we reconnected on facebook. My close friend Stephanie had been (lovingly) nagging me to join the social network, and I finally caved. I had recently found out through my parents that Amy's mom had just passed away from breast cancer, and I looked Amy up on facebook. Tears fell down my cheeks as I imagined the pain that Amy must be feeling, but didn't know what words to say. I sent her a facebook message telling how truly sorry I was for her loss, and that her mother was a beautiful woman, wife, and mother. Deep inside I wondered if she would be mad at me for losing contact with her, and that I hadn't been with her through that difficult part of her life.
Within a few months, I bought a plane ticket and flew several states away to see Amy and meet her family. By this point we had been chatting away every day on the phone, but I was so very nervous to see her. I still felt deep inside that she must be mad at me, at least a little bit, for losing contact with her all those years. But the second I saw her standing in the airport with her boys, I just wanted to run and hug her. It was as if no time had passed. That kind of friendship is rare, and I recognized that even more deeply that day. We have continued to talk and giggle nonstop, and it feels like eternity if we go more than two days without talking for at least a couple of minutes.
A few weeks ago, Amy called me (surprise!) and told me this: When her mom was alive, she was her best friend. She was someone Amy could pick up the phone and call several times a day, even if it was just for a one or two minute conversation. When her mom died, Amy lost her best friend as well as her mother. Then, God reunited her with me. Amy said, " God brought me you. He gave me peace." She said that when she told this to her husband Stephen, he said, "You should fly and go see her." By this point I was crying, and said, "Yes! Come see me!" So just this past week, Amy and her wonderful traveling companion - one year old Audrey- flew in to spend a few days at my house. Amy was in the mood to shop while here, and I definitely wasn't going to complain about that. We even found a neat little shabby chic boutique downtown, and if Amy didn't have to ship her purchases back home through the mail, I think she may have bought up the entire store. :)
Her trip to my house also happened to correspond with the anniversary of her mother's death. (Stephen didn't plan this when booking the trip- it just worked out that way in God's divine plan.) Amy and I spent that day shopping and laughing, a departure from how she had spent that particular day in the past couple of years. Aside from a few tears, I think she was able to be happy that day, and I am so glad for her. I know her mom would be too. Amy and Audrey just left for home yesterday, and already, my house feels empty.
I am so thankful that God brought Amy into my life- twice. Aside from my husband, she knows me better than anyone else, and I can tell her anything- I trust her implicitly. I love you, girl! Talk to you tomorrow.
