This will be the
very first “Thought for the Day” that I have written without Angie. I am going
to attempt to talk about her, and I am sure after the flood of many tears
subsides, I can touch on what she was to me, and what she will always be. You
see, she was the driving force behind my writing, and I am now writing this
without her.
I don’t remember
the day we became friends, it was more as if we had always been. Our families
had known each other before we ever came along, our mothers were friends, so it
was a given that we would be.
My earliest memory, and one we have laughed about through
the years, is us spending countless afternoons brushing the tangles out of my
long blonde hair. She was slightly older than me, so I listened to her. (Well,
I tried.) She would wrangle me away from playing football with the boys, and
make me sit still. She was so gentle, and as she worked and worked on my hair,
she would talk to me, telling of things she had learned in the wisdom of being
older than me.
She always would laugh and say, “TC, you are such a tomboy,
but I think you are the prettiest one out there playing ball.”
She always made me shine. Countless hours she spent trying
to get me back to a somewhat girlie looking girl. Braiding my hair, making sure
it was just so, knowing that as soon as my feet hit the ground again, I would
head back to the mud and muck; and she would never complain. My Mama always
thanked her for being so patient with me.
As the years passed, we grew closer, and my Mom had such a
special spot in her heart for Angie. They clicked, and you could often walk
into the Rock Store, and see Angie and Mama laughing it up.
I don’t really remember a time growing up that she Angie
wasn't smiling and laughing, her radiance was stunning. She lit the way for so
many people, and she continued to shine into adulthood.
I remember when she met the love of her life. Mama was
sewing her wedding dress, and Angie was so nervous. She couldn't wait to be her
sweetheart’s wife, and Mama assured her that it would all work out. In fact, I
think somewhere upstairs, I still have the pattern Mom used for her dress. It
was just as gorgeous as she was.
Angie lived her dream, a simple one, but she lived it; she
had her children, her husband, and happiness. Her family was the true fuel that
kept her going. She adored them like no other person I have ever known.
Angie was always there: Always, no ifs, ands, or buts. She
was there for her friends and family. She wasn't well, but she always said the
same thing: “Someone in the world is worse off than me, so I am fine.”
When I began writing again, I felt unsure, a little weak in
the knees about giving the world my words. I had only shared my writings with
Mom, and then with Angie. She encouraged me beyond belief, she told me the
truth, she cheered me on, and finally I stepped out and gave the world a chunk
of my soul: my words. She never failed to read every single word and then let
me know what they meant to her. As I continued to write, she kept cheering, and
if I slacked off, I would get a phone call or an email letting me know to get
off my behind and keep writing. She said I had something to give people, she
believed in me. So again, she was standing behind me, not getting my tangled
hair back in shape, but encouraging my tangled soul to keep reaching.
When my Mama became sick, she was there. She called her very
often, it troubled her so much to know my Mom was suffering, not in good health
herself, she worried about my Mom more than herself.
I remember Angie calling Mom near the end of Mom’s life, she
called to check on her and Mom insisted on speaking to Angie, so I raised her
up in bed and gave her the phone. I listened intently and the tears began to
roll with such intensity. “Angie, I need you to promise me something: Promise
me that if I leave, if I pass, that you will see to it that Teresa never stops
writing.”
I watched as Mama cried, and Angie assured her that she would always
be behind me.
I dedicated my first book to Angie, because she deserved so much,
she pushed me, she rooted for me, and she believed in me when I couldn’t
believe in myself.
Mama passed.
I looked out the window the day after; I was just a shell of
a person. I saw Angie with her oxygen
tank coming up the driveway, she held me close, she let me cry my eyes out, and
she said nothing at first. Then, she reminded me that Mom was in no more pain,
and that it was now her job to make sure that I followed my passion. She held
me so tight, I hope I never forget that embrace. I looked horrible, and she
wiped the hair out of my face and smiled, saying, “There’s my pretty girl.”
I read over our emails before I wrote this thought for the
day. Very often, I would get an email letting me know she had not seen me
writing and I better get with it, always ending it with how much she loved me
and how my words touched the very core of her being.
I also read some words that she wrote not long ago, “Don’t
worry what people think of you, if they are truly your friends, they will love
you at your worst, and shine with you are your best, I am so proud of you, I
love you TC, and as soon as the weather is pretty, we are going to sit in your
thinking spot and cry and laugh, I love you so much.”
Sadly my dear friend didn't get to see prettier weather, she
passed away. I am sure where she is right now that the sun is shining and she
is having a wonderful time with my Mama and Mimi, but I tell ya, this hurts so
deeply. I am struggling to think of writing without her, that constant reminder
of being who I am, and if people don’t like it, well, tough for them.
She saw in me some things I still can’t see in myself. She
saw me at my worst and still loved me anyway.
I want to remind you all, do not take one day for granted,
if you have grudges, make them right, and do not hold hard feelings towards
someone else.
Remember the beauty that person once held in your life, and
remember they are only human. If someone can love you at your worst and takes
the time to understand why, you have a friend for life. If they can't, they
aren't genuine.
Angie, my sweet, beautiful friend, I have written this
thought for the day for you. I didn’t think I could, I want to call you so
badly, just to hear that infectious
laugh, and to hear the joy in your voice.
I will take your advice and be myself, and as you said, I
won’t worry if people like me or not, I will not change who I am.
I am going to miss you standing behind me; it was such a
reassurance in my life, a constant that I never dreamed would be gone this
soon. I love you so much, and I sure wish I could feel your hands in my tangled
mess of hair one more time. I am so proud to have had you in my life, guiding
me, and showing me the kind of woman I need to be. What a beautiful example to
the world you were.
I hope you are singing, dancing, and smiling, I know you
are. I feel it, those of us touched by your life will never go a day without
you in our thoughts, and I promise I will do my best to make you proud.
I think I will go down to the thinking spot and plant
something special, so that when I am there, you are with me.
Someone in this world always is worse off than you. I
learned that from one of the most beautiful friends I could ever been blessed
with. Angie, you aren't here, and I am still sick in my guts about it, but I am
so very grateful for what you taught me. We will see each other again someone
day, and, oh, what a day that will be. Angie, you will live on in your
children. I can see so much of you in them.
Hey, if I start slacking on my writing, find some way to
give me that kick in the behind that you were so famous for.
I will never ever get over you. EVER.
Friendship is being there, forgiving, forgetting, and living
each day as if it were your last, not just in the good times, but also when you
are down in the ditch struggling to get out. Thank you for teaching me that.
Rest in peace, Angie, I know your suffering is over. I love
you with all of my heart and tangles.
Here are my thoughts.
©
TC ;)
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