When a Friend Dies

I have been through the grief of my husband and parents’ deaths, but this is the first time I’ve had a significant friend die. I was not prepared for the devastating heartache that accompanied this loss. So much of grief literature focuses on the three prominent deaths: child, spouse, and parent, but I’ve not read or heard much about this type of grief. Though I’ve had relatives, friends, and acquaintances die whom I felt sad about, I was unprepared for the depth of what I am feeling now.

My friend died on Monday, about four months after she was diagnosed with stage 4 pancreatic cancer. I met her through a support group about fifteen years ago. Over the years and the trials I’ve endured, she was a source of wisdom, compassion, kindness, humor, and support. She was helpful after Mike died. Although our journeys were different, she gave me hope for the future. I would see her at least twice a week, and she was just a phone call away if I needed to talk. Even near the end of her life, she continued to inspire me, showing up on Zoom for meetings she could no longer attend in person. Seeing her online and knowing what she was going through showed me what strength, grace, and faith looked like.

Realizing that I would one day receive the text that she had died did nothing to prepare me for the shock of receiving the news. Our brain is wired to deal with a predictable world of what life looks like, and it can’t absorb the shock of the new reality when the person we love is no longer in this world. Whether a death is sudden or anticipated, they both set off a bodily response to the event. All I felt at first was shock. How can this be real? But as the day moved on, the sorrow began to set in. When the tears had to be pushed to the side so that I could tutor, my chest was tight, and my stomach hurt. There was a grief ache that reached every part of my body, and my eyes felt like the tears were always about to spill out. The only respite was when I was able to fall asleep. Unfortunately, the cycle begins again the moment I open my eyes, and the truth of her death hits again.

Grief is lonely and personal, dependent on the relationship that you have with the person who died. It was hard to go to the meetings this week that I was used to seeing her at because the reality of her death could not be avoided. Driving to the first meeting was especially hard, and I wanted to go home. However, I knew that it was the place that I needed to be because I would be with a community of people who also loved her, and the grief shared would be a bit easier to bear. I led the meeting today, and it was a privilege to share memories and honor her life. Tomorrow, I will say goodbye to my sweet friend with her family and friends at her memorial service.

I know that it will take time to adjust to the pain of the loss of my friend. I’m grateful I wrote down some of the gems she shared over the years. Experience with grief never makes it easier when a new loss comes along. It creates a more profound longing for Mike, Mom, and Dad, wishing I could turn to them for comfort. I know that I will always carry her love and legacy with me.