I have a friend whose identity may remain nameless. I am not sure yet about this, and will decide by the time I reach the end of this post whether to partially identify her.
"Gloria" and I have known each other the better part of 30 years and, through that time, our friendship has grown. It has grown into a relationship rooted deeply in love, trust and understanding, the likes of which I can only compare to my marriage with my husband. Except that Gloria is a woman (as am I) and we have no romantic feelings towards each other because, sheesh, people, we're straight as an arrow. But what I think of when I think of our friendship is the kind of relationship that used to be cultivated some 200 years ago between two women who took afternoon tea together, talked about their lives, mended clothing together, sat by the fire with their families and told stories for the children to hear. And, when they weren't together, they would write letters. Beautiful, detailed letters. It is a relationship lead by respect and admiration.
Gloria and I met in late 1979 when my husband and I first began dating and he introduced us. She told me that when she met me she thought that I was the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen. I still blush over this because I can't see it in me one bit. But she does.
Druck and I married in 1981 and she and Hank married in 1982. Our lives went along as we drove through the years, sharing in each other's victories and deep disappointments. We'd confide in each other about our marriages, trade advice on issues related to our children and support each other through PMS and, later, through menopause.
When Hank and Gloria went through a trial separation, which Gloria supported while Hank took some time to "find himself," she and I waded through the torments of such a separation from the one she loved. When she could barely walk through this emotional time period, she came with her daughter to visit us while we were living in Boston. We spent numerous nights sitting on the stoop of our front porch together, she crying, me, with my hand on her back, patting gently and never forgetting her loud cry, "What if he never comes back?" I assured her that regardless of what happened, she would never be alone. I knew it wasn't the same as having a marriage, but I knew that we would never allow her to feel alone.
When Hank didn't return, after Gloria found out he was having an affair rather than just needing some time to think, we rallied around her. Her two brothers spent many a night on the phone plotting Hank's demise, or at least turning him into a bloody pulp, which never happened, but it felt good for them to plan it out. Her father refused to speak Hank's name for some 12 years after that, but relented and put on a good face when Gloria's daughter graduated from high school, and even made amends with Hank. It made me realize that separation and divorce doesn't effect just one or two people (namely a wife and daughter), but it tears down and scars an entire family.
Gloria has been my rock through my own difficulties in dealing with issues related to my childrens' struggles and through helping in the upbringing of our grandson. We make certain to talk every single day whether it's via the phone, text messaging, email, Facebook (or all of the above some days). Seems that she has just the right advice for me when I need it and I have it for her. Sometimes, when we are at a loss, we just listen. And the other knows that just having that person listen, without judging, is better than all the chocolate in the world or living the life of a celebrity.
Gloria knows that I am a person who goes down various avenues when I am lamenting life or even when I'm just telling a funny story. She is patient with me. Like when I go off on tangents: "And then I said, 'Why did you do that?' because, as you know, when I am talking to him about that, he goes off into some emotional place and shuts the door and, by the way, at the same time I was asking him that, the phone was ringing and the cat had just vomited up a hairball, so you can imagine my mental state at the time...." Never does she say, "Hurry up," or "You already said that," or "Just get to the point," or "Too much information!!!" I embrace that and am grateful for it every single time we talk. Because, hell, I KNOW when I'm going off on a tangent but, for me, that additional information is important to me. I know it probably doesn't add much, if anything, but she respects that it is important.
I have often told her that I do not know what I would do without her. And she says the same thing and then we start to get all weepy on the phone or sitting across the room from each other and she yells, "STOP! We're not going there!"
She keeps a journal that she leaves open on the table in her living room and anyone is welcome to read and write in the journal. Often, sitting together on the couch on a cold winter evening, fire burning in her fireplace, we have pulled out some of the journals. And we have laughed hysterically over the humor that exists among the people in this little group who love each other, and we have cried over memories of stories and writings of and by people who have left this world too soon.
I cannot express my gratitude enough for this woman coming into my life. And now, yes, I suppose I have revealed her, and even moreso when I say that one of the most poignant thoughts of her has to do with my telling her that I thank God everyday for bringing my husband into my life because he was the pathway to her. My eternal friend. My confidante. The other half of who I am. My female soul mate who I will cherish like a gift, a treasure, a beaming sun. My sister-in-law. Who always has time for me. Thank you for being in my life. Thank you for accepting me, despite my various neuroses and being the "female Woody Allen" as your other brother so succinctly put it many years ago. You accept all of me, good or bad, and I realize now that when I married your brother almost 30 years ago that you came with the package. I had no idea what kind of bonus I was getting. Like winning the million bucks on Wheel of Fortune, or catching the Leprechaun and getting the pot of gold, or opening the dictionary, looking up love, and finding your name in there as part of the definition.
I love you, "Gloria!" And, by the way, YOU, dear friend, are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.
Copyright 2009 liamsgrandma
