The Greatest Gift, Part 2

I mailed the birthday card on my last day in the office before The Awesome Husband and I left for vacation.  This was intentional ... if I'd done it sooner, I knew I'd be watching the mail carefully (likely TOO carefully) for a possible reply and would, no question, slowly drive myself to wonder if I'd made a mistake by reaching out at all.  I *HAD* let her Christmas card go unanswered for 6 months after all.  It was totally possible that I'd missed my opportunity.

We started by visiting my parents and largely avoiding the July 4th holiday.  The next morning, we drove to Monterey, stowed our bags at our hotel and visited the touristy places.   I'd remembered a specific on-the-wharf place that had amazingly tender squid dishes, and we found it with very little trouble.  The service was great but, sadly, the food was not as good as my memory told me.

We were driving back to the hotel when The Awesome Husband saw a storefront that he wanted to take a photo of.  One of the major dinners we'd enjoy while on vacation was in Yountville at a private outdoor table at a well-known destination for food-lovers - The French Laundry.  The storefront that had been spotted in Monterey was the Del Mar French Laundry and a far cry from where we'd be dining.

The Awesome Husband asked me to pull over and I managed to drive behind the rather dilapidated building and waited while he walked around to the front to take the picture he'd upload to our fellow diners, as a laugh.

I must have been charging my cell phone because when it rang, I didn't have to hunt for it.  I checked at the display to see if I knew the caller and ,while the number was unfamiliar, the area code was not.  I answered it right away, figuring it could be any of the hotels we would be saying at, restaurants we'd be visiting or (possibly) the REAL French Laundry calling to ask about a few special requests I'd made on the sly to surprise The Awesome Husband as a belated birthday gift.

"Hello?" I answered, in my best business voice.  "Hello - Julie?  It's Karin."

My throat tightened and I blurted out "my God it IS Karin!  Happy Birthday, Karin!!!"  In true fashion, she brushed off that it was her birthday and wanted to know - honestly - how I was doing.  She didn't specifically ask about my Parkinson's, but I knew that's what she was asking.  In the flurry of conversation that followed, I learned that her oldest daughter was a teenager, that her parents and siblings were all visiting per her father's request for his 80th birthday and she was hoping we had a spare space in our travel plan to visit them.

It was about this time that The Awesome Husband came walking around the corner, having successfully taken his photo.  Karin and I came up with a plan for a visit Sunday morning, and as we said our goodbyes, the tears started to really flow.

Oh it was just awful.  I would *just* start to get it together, and then I'd think about how much time I had wasted, how much of a coward I'd been, the amount of pain I'd caused ... and I'd be right back to being a big, snotty mess.  For those of a certain age, you may think about watching Mary Tyler Moore on the Dick Van Dyke Show, where she played the part of Laura Petrie.  Laura had a cry that was funny to watch but  heartbreaking to listen to.

And it wasn't just the 6-minute drive back to the hotel.  It was literally HOURS.  We'd be unpacking or researching our next location to visit and I'd feel this wave of guilt and love and forgiveness and ... it would start all over again.  So my hope was that I'd get myself composed over the next day and a half.  It'd be nice if I wasn't a total basket case when we visited.

The Greatest Gift, Part 1

I won't do this justice.  It may take me several efforts before I capture this correctly.  If (ok, WHEN) I decide to try this again, I'll just name it "The Greatest Gift, Rewrite".  Here goes ...

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I've always made friends easily.  I can make small talk to break the ice with the best of 'em, and from then on, it's mostly a matter of being interested and active listening.  If we don't hit it off, hey - no harm, no foul.

As for friends who really REALLY know me (and whom I'm not related to or married to), that's another matter.  There's Tim, for sure.  We hit it off immediately and have been great friends ever since.  But even that's not going back to my school-age days.  No, school-age friends would number five.  And school-age friends whom I kept in contact with well after graduation would number two.  And school-age friends whom I kept in contact with until I moved East would number one.

And when I write "school-age", the five would be from high school.  And the "post-graduation" two would be the five from high school minus the three who moved away, got married, went to college or whom I just lost touch with.  And those two?  I have known since Kindergarten.  So for REALLY close school-age friends, we're talking about - no exaggeration - a forty-year friendship.

Of those two, one started making really bad choices and decisions and I was finding myself feeling dread when she'd call.  She asked me to do favors for her that I was pretty uncomfortable with and, when things came to a head one day, instead of being sad at the loss of a very long friendship, I found myself feeling ... relief.  The person I had been friends with for so long had changed so dramatically and became someone I would have likely never wanted to know.

But the other one?  I introduced her to her husband, whom I was friends with in a different circle.  I met their firstborn child when she was less than 48 hours old ... and I held their second child at hour 8.  I had my doubts that our friendship wouldn't change with the addition of her having children - and yes, it DID change - but we could still be our goofy selves.  We could still have talks on the phone (something a lot of parents simply cannot achieve due to the constant interruption of a child in need).  She was still interesting and funny and had interests that didn't involve children.

So when it came time for me to move, I spent the days packing or shipping or finding bubble-wrap and crafting, in my head, a way to somehow say I was leaving.  And - I failed * every * single * time*.  It wasn't as though we talked every day or saw each other every week ... but the idea that I wouldn't have the ability to see her at the drop of a hat made me feel ill.  And when the time came?  I chickened out.  I bailed.  I slunk away and when I DID finally call to say "hey - new address!!", I hung up afterwards knowing I had deeply hurt my closest friend and would likely never hear from her again.

When Christmas arrived a few months later, I received a card from her parents ... but not from her.  I sent one, holding out hope that I had simply misread her reaction to my move - and my not telling her face-to-face about the move - but deep down, I knew what she likely was feeling.  After all, 35 plus of friendship had BETTER teach you how to read the other person.

And then life got complicated.  The search for employment took about 11 months longer than I'd expected, the Awesome Boyfriend became the Awesome Live-In Boyfriend, I became employed again but needed to learn a whole new sector (from technology to education), and - just for added drama - there was, of course, my Parkinson's diagnosis.

Each year, without fail, I would get a Christmas card from her parents with a note that would say something like "hope you're doing well", or "haven't heard from you" or "miss your updates" ... but what was I gonna say?  I'd send them a card, too, but .... well how would YOU write "love my job, gonna get married, have Parkinson's, happy new year!"?  So I simply would write my name and send it off, knowing they deserved better.  Knowing she deserved better.  And there I was - in the foreign situation of really not knowing how to break the ice.

Christmas 2012 came around and, out of the blue, I opened a photo card to see the smile I'd known since walking into Mrs. Denzer's Kindergarten classroom.  I stared at the card, studying the familiar ornaments on their tree (knowing she was alright with random decor placement but that such a thing would keep him up at night) and, still in a daze, flipped the card over to see a whole page of text!  Ages and hobbies of children, vacation news, job updates, boards and committees she was on ... not personalized to me but I drank it in, sat back, and ... cried. I still didn't have any way of writing "love my job, got married, have Parkinson's, happy new year!"  I made a mental note to reach out when I was able to write something informative, sensitive, comprehensive, and not pity-inducing.  This was gonna take some time.

It would take me six months to work up the courage, and two hours to write a Reader's Digest of my life without her in it.  With our birthdays being 12 days apart and with Summer Vacation looming, I purchased a card, folded my two-page letter (which I boldly included my email and phone number and a note we'd be visiting my parents for the next two weeks), sealed the card, and dropped it in the mail.  I went home and packed for our travels, not mentioning to the Awesome Husband what I'd done, so as to save myself from any embarrassment should she not call or write.