The Cardinal
Today is the one year anniversary of my best friend’s death. I never imagined that I would type a sentence like that. I have survived an entire year of not having her. Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s Eve, both of our 40th birthdays, Nurses’ Day when I would normally send her a card, and an unimaginable number of ordinary days in between. It’s the normal days that sting the most, I think. Those are the days when I think of her out of the blue and want to tell her something silly that makes me think of our childhood, or when I want to tell her about a moment that she simply will not believe. That’s when I remember that she is gone. I still have the last string of text messages that we sent. I hope that they are never accidentally deleted. It’s the one thing that I have left with her stamped on it. I can’t bear to lose anything else.
When I opened my eyes this morning, my first thought was, “Oh, it’s today.” I have dreaded July 28th since last July 28th; it is a day that I will dislike forever. As I lay in my bed, willing myself to get up and face the world, I tried to convince myself that I would be strong enough to not cry today. I got up and took the dog out and put on my game face, only to find myself sobbing over a weak cup of coffee twenty minutes later. And once I started, it was too late to talk myself out of it. This is how the twins found me. There is no way to explain this level of sadness to five-year olds without aIso making them sad. I told them that I missed my friend in heaven and I left it at that. I didn’t want to go into detail or over-explain. I wanted to cry alone.
I am not nearly as religious or spiritual as I was when I was growing up. At times though, I find myself leaning into it more heavily than others. I do not even know where I first heard that seeing cardinals was a representation of loved ones who have passed. This was something that I clung to after my grandmother passed almost ten years ago. Now, I look for them everywhere. Anytime I am in my front yard, when I was on vacation at the lake, my eyes are drawn to the trees, desperately searching the entwined branches for a glimpse of red. My girls will call out to me when they see one perched in the yard. They are too young to know how nuts it probably is. I’m too embarrassed to tell anyone else because what kind of crazy person thinks that a bird is their friend? Have I truly finally lost my mind?
On Emily’s birthday in June, I started the day in the same funk as today. I wanted to go about the day celebrating all of the years that I had known her; I didn’t want to be sad. But I am not wired for positivity. Wallowing in my feelings is more my style. My mascara was washed away before I even left the driveway. I did not know how I was possibly going to pull it together in order to go to work. However, the most wonderful thing happened as I drove through my neighborhood. Just ahead of my car, I caught a glimpse of bright red, soaring through the air. When I least expected it, there was the cardinal that I so desperately needed to see. It was the sweetest surprise. I knew then that a day that could have been so difficult would at least be manageable. We had cupcakes in her honor that evening. I am so glad now that we did. She would not want me to be so sad.
Today, I waited patiently for my cardinal to appear. I was desperate for it. Of all days, I needed it today more than any other time. I just knew it was coming. And yet, it is dark outside now, and the cardinal never came. I would be lying if I said that I am not disappointed. I know that there comes a time when you have to begin to let go, when you have to learn to move on and not live in the past. But it is also heartbreaking to see others moving on and wondering how any of us are even able to be okay at all. I feel guilty for being happy sometimes. Loss is absolutely devastating. We all have to find our own ways of coping. It is not my place to tell others how to grieve.
Last year, I made the decision that I was not happy with a lot of things in my life. I had decided to finally put down roots and buy a house. I stopped thinking about dating and the possibility of getting remarried someday. I just didn’t have time for the nonsense any longer. And after July 28th, I realized that it was time for an about face in my career. The devastation of not knowing if I would even be able to take the day off for the funeral was the turning point for me. Of everything else, this is the change that I am most thankful for. My new role is not always smooth, but it is a transition that I am working through. If Emily were here, I would tell her all about it. I think that she would be proud of me. I have so many regrets, but being her friend will never be one of them.
