My friend Dawn died on August 27th. She was diagnosed with cancer on April 1 and died such a short time later. I kept thinking I'd have more time with her, or that she'd win the battle, or that at the very least I could get back to TN to spend the last few months with her. But that's what I get for thinking. Life just ends. No real warning. Ends. One minute she is there talking and laughing and the next she is sick and the next she is gone.
How do you even begin to wrap your head around such confusion? That's what it has been for me. Just completely confusing. I don't still have the words to say. I just can't place them.
Hurt. Lost. Confused. These words touch how it feels, but nothing captures the true feeling.
I met Dawn in 1995 during our freshman year at MTSU. I wish I remembered our first meeting or our first conversation... but I don't. I just remember knowing she was awesome and we became great friends. And we remained friends for the past 18 years. There were a few years where we lost contact, but eventually it seemed we were supposed to be back in the same circle and God brought us back together. For years.... there wasn't a week that went by that we didn't speak at least once. Honestly, there were weeks that a day wouldn't go by without talking at least ten times. I looked up to her. She had to job I wanted. It was because of her that I went back to school to get my degree and am back in school now. She always knew the right thing to say. She never held grudges. She loved everyone no matter who they were or what they did. She had a faith stronger than I'll probably ever have.
I feel like there is a million other things I want to say. And questions I want to ask. How are we going to get past not having her around? She was the center of our little group we liked to call the Angels. Fitting, right? There are (were) four of us. The women that I've known through the best of times and worst of times. Even though we were always in different life stages, we always managed to have something to talk about. We were just that close. I could tell these girls anything. So to lose a huge part of that circle just makes it seem surreal.
I just don't know. To think about her - just gone - I feel like I've been kicked in the ribs and can't breathe. Not a day has passed that I've not thought about her, cried over her, seen something that reminds me of her. I know she is better now that she is not sick. But it just doesn't make sense.
Getting to Fort Campbell was such a priority. I thought I'd be able to get back to TN and be a couple hours away from her. But now that the expediency of the moment is gone, I feel a bit lost. I want to move, but I don't. I want to get there, but I don't want to leave here. It's all very confusing.
The morning she died I had just dropped William off at his first day of kindergarten. I was sad and weepy from that. So, when Gap Girl called to say Dawn had been put into the hospital, I felt a rush of anxiety flow through me. I knew! I knew I had to get home as soon as possible. I need to get to TN to see her and hug her and tell her I loved her. So, I'm freaking out. Doing that nervous cleaning I do. I dust the table where my bible sits next to the couch and decided to open it up. I highlighted the story of the woman in the crown who had been bleeding for 12 years. She reached out and touched the hem of Jesus' robe and through her faith was healed. I then receive another phone call. Dawn has been put into hospice. OK... that was it. I started making plans to getting the kids out of school and trying to think of if I even had money to get back to TN... when three words literally leapt off the page of the bible and I started as if I'd heard the words out loud. "Quiet. Be Still" So, I sat down. Confused, but trying to calm down, I just sat there and said "Ok, God. I'll stop freaking out." Within an hour she was gone. I know that was God telling me to let him handle it. And the most peace I have from all of this is that He was with her when she passed. He was telling me that there was nothing I needed to do. That there was nothing I needed to say. That all would be understood one day and to have faith in knowing He is in control.
Dawn knew this, too. On the day she found out her tumor had tripled in size, she told me that she may not ever understand why she got sick. But one day we would, and when that day came, we should celebrate it. Braver words have never been spoken.
I miss her. But she will always be a part of who I am.
The Angels
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