My best friend of 36 years died a little over two weeks ago. Came home from a trip to Mexico and was dead in 24 hours of a virulent strain of bacterial meningitis.
I suddenly find myself the de facto guardian of her two teenage children. They're both over 18, so the fact that my friend had appointed me guardian in case of just this such eventuality means diddly-squat. But that doesn't remove the sense of responsibility. An 18 and 19 year old living alone in a house in the 'burbs doesn't leave me feeling comfortable. The 18 year old is a senior in high school and doesn't even know how to do his own laundry, though insists he's an adult now and will be making his own decisions thank you very much.
The 19 year old spent 2 years in rehab - which, from her condition during the week between her mother's death and funeral service, hasn't worked. She's turning it around, thank God, stepping up to the plate, keeping the house going, meeting with lawyers and bankers as they try to figure out her mom's estate and the trust set up for them. The decisions are theirs; I can't tell them what to do, I can only (hopefully) influence and guide. I fear for both of them.
In the meantime, I have a hole in my heart, missing my friend.
I think I have it together, but the evidence belies it: I've lost my cell phone a half dozen times in the last two weeks; lost my car keys twice; even lost my damn car in a parking lot; made a gigantically stupid error at work; got lost going to my friend's house (where I've visited a gazillion times); lost my train of thought at inopportune moments; in short, I'm a mess.
The universe is telling me to take some time off.
My friend Mary Jo, at a campground outside Jackson Hole. We sure had us some fun...
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