My last entry was short, and only spoke of a millisecond of the past week and all that has transpired. As I said, my sweet friend Julie’s husband passed away a little over a week ago. I can’t stop thinking about her, of her sons, and of how their lives are forever altered.
Julie IM’d me just under a month ago to say that they would most likely have to cancel their trip up here this summer, because Tom had cancer. It wasn’t confirmed yet, but what they saw on the MRI was not good and it appeared to be everywhere. I wrote back, that of course I understood, not to think another thing about their visit up here, and did that typical thing that we useless friends do….we say, “How can I help?” Help? I could do nothing but pray and try not to hurt her more by making her repeat the story for the thousandth time by calling and writing incessantly. I read Julie's Blog every day, and could sense her weariness. I called anyway, and she confirmed the worst, told me what their plans were for treatment and maintained her typical sunny outlook through her despair.
Less than three weeks later, Tom died. He passed away in his home, with Julie at his side. Julie IM’d me the afternoon of his passing, and I got online and got a ticket for a flight out the next day. Tom had a very large Irish catholic family, and Julie has three siblings and a mother close by as well, so I called my parents and asked if they could pick me up, I would stay with them to keep out of Julie’s way.
When I called Julie to tell her that I was coming and asked her if there was anything I could do to help prepare…clean a bathroom? Make some food for the gathering after the service? She said, “Will you sing?” My heart got suddenly lodged in my throat. Sing? I was overwhelmed with the honor that was being bestowed on me, and overcome with fear that I would screw it up. I am not one of those singers that can cry and sing…I start tearing and it’s GAME OVER. I’m a train wreck on a good day if I see someone get emotional, and Tom’s memorial…. Good Lord. “Of course. I’d be honored.” I said. And began to pray that this would be all about Tom, all about his loving family….and that not one single second of this service would be diverted to the stupid emotional singer in the background.
I began to pack, to download MP3’s and sheet music to learn the songs Julie wanted at the service, and to prepare for my departure…. It still just wasn’t real. But I needed to get to her.
I drove my car to Seattle instead of taking the shuttle, because I was only staying one night. My parents picked me up, and we had dinner at Spencer’s in the DoubleTree, San Jose and went back to their house. In the morning, I went to the golf course with my Dad and dropped him off, then headed to the church about an hour early to get the details down with the Bishop, who happens to be Julie’s uncle. Ultimately, there was no background music, and no accompanist so it was a Capella all the way, baby. It didn’t matter. That’s not why we were there. Tom’s sister is a nun, and two of her nun sisters offered to back me up on the song I didn’t know…..picture it! Me, singing with three nuns.…these women were awesome, and we just knew that Tom was somewhere laughing at the scene. There were wonderful readings done, beautiful history being revealed by all of Tom’s loved ones.
After the service, I made a beeline for Julie’s. I didn’t know anyone except for Julie’s sisters and kids (and of course my new nun friends) who I knew would be very busy accepting condolences and trying to be brave, so I thought I might be better put to use at the house preparing food, or laying out serving dishes.
I got there and tried to make myself useful. The house was very soon packed with people…family, friends, neighbors, co-workers. I sat and flipped through photo albums that were laying out and saw Julie’s amazing talent for creating memories in a tangible form….pre-school pictures of our now high schoolers. The baby shower invitation that I made for her now 8 year old. So many memories.
Early in the afternoon, some of Tom’s close friends held a separate ceremony that was open to anyone. I found myself so glad in heart that they held a service in the Catholic Church that reflected their family’s joint heritage, and then delighted to see a more private ceremony that reflected Tom’s later commitments. There was a gentleman close to Tom that conducted a meditation, and a sage healing ceremony in a more Native American tradition. It was wonderful.
As the afternoon progressed, I realized that I had to pick up my Dad at the golf course so I went to tell Julie good-bye and to give her a big hug. “I wish I could stay”, I said. “and just….take care of you.” Julie said, “Then stay.” I said, “Well, I have to fly out tonight, I have to be in L.A. on Thursday.” she said, “Cancel your flight. Stay until Thursday.” I looked at her. “I’ll check with Jason.” A few minutes later I found a quiet spot in the house and called Jason who said, “Of course, stay.” Then I got online to change my flight and was able to with not one cent of additional cost. Must have been meant to be. Anyway, it was Saturday and I extended my stay until Tuesday. That way I could be home late Tuesday night, spend Wednesday with my family before I had to leave again on Thursday.
So that afternoon I picked up my Dad, had dinner with my parents, then drove my mom’s BMW Z4 convertible back down to Julie’s where I got her stinking drunk on Irish Car Bombs to try to numb the day. The next morning more of her family came to take the kids somewhere fun. Julie opted to go for a ride with me in the BMW to the beach where we talked about Tom. We cried a lot, we laughed a lot, and I just ached to make it better. It’s the most helpless feeling to not be able to soothe a friend’s heartache and know there are just no right words.
Julie and I have a history of re-decorating…we crackled the table that still resided in her new kitchen, and she helped me stencil my kids’ room a million years ago. So, she suggested that maybe while I was there we could do a room. She said that Tom hated a few of the rooms that were already decorated when they bought their new house, so I suggested that we take the room he hated the most and change it. The bathroom. It had pink and a sickly greenish-taupe stripes on one wall….and in less than two hours it was transformed to a beautiful warm wheat color with towels and décor in deep red and gold tones. Ta daaaaaa!!
Julie was on the phone dealing with stuff she should never have had to deal with. It just feels so wrong to be having to explain to people over and over in the same conversation, “Look, my husband is dead. He won’t be USING your gym again and you need to cancel his membership, I don’t giving a flying $%&@ about the contract!!” I listened without meaning to while painting, and the next thing you know I was done. Julie was so pleased she said, “Can we do another room?” Absolutely. Here are the results of that New Baseball Room for her son, Ryan that we tackled the following day. The impotent friend who can’t make it better…. This is what I do. I get her drunk and re-decorate. We do what we can.
I’m just so sad. I know it’s not my loss….but I just grieve to the point of pain when I think of my beautiful Julie hurting like this. Tom’s enormously talented son, Dylan working through this and new challenges in his acting career as his show ends this summer. Their son Conor in the most volatile time of his teens, and their sunny child Ryan as he pretends it all going to be okay. I love them all so much, and I just wish decorating and cooking fried chicken for them could make it all better. As my sweet friends who feel like family struggle to adjust, I can’t stop thinking about them. I even emailed Julie a report meant for my boss because I was thinking about her. I bet I’m the only friend that sent an analysis of Hewlett-Packard instead of flowers. *sigh*
Julie IM’d me just under a month ago to say that they would most likely have to cancel their trip up here this summer, because Tom had cancer. It wasn’t confirmed yet, but what they saw on the MRI was not good and it appeared to be everywhere. I wrote back, that of course I understood, not to think another thing about their visit up here, and did that typical thing that we useless friends do….we say, “How can I help?” Help? I could do nothing but pray and try not to hurt her more by making her repeat the story for the thousandth time by calling and writing incessantly. I read Julie's Blog every day, and could sense her weariness. I called anyway, and she confirmed the worst, told me what their plans were for treatment and maintained her typical sunny outlook through her despair.
Less than three weeks later, Tom died. He passed away in his home, with Julie at his side. Julie IM’d me the afternoon of his passing, and I got online and got a ticket for a flight out the next day. Tom had a very large Irish catholic family, and Julie has three siblings and a mother close by as well, so I called my parents and asked if they could pick me up, I would stay with them to keep out of Julie’s way.
When I called Julie to tell her that I was coming and asked her if there was anything I could do to help prepare…clean a bathroom? Make some food for the gathering after the service? She said, “Will you sing?” My heart got suddenly lodged in my throat. Sing? I was overwhelmed with the honor that was being bestowed on me, and overcome with fear that I would screw it up. I am not one of those singers that can cry and sing…I start tearing and it’s GAME OVER. I’m a train wreck on a good day if I see someone get emotional, and Tom’s memorial…. Good Lord. “Of course. I’d be honored.” I said. And began to pray that this would be all about Tom, all about his loving family….and that not one single second of this service would be diverted to the stupid emotional singer in the background.
I began to pack, to download MP3’s and sheet music to learn the songs Julie wanted at the service, and to prepare for my departure…. It still just wasn’t real. But I needed to get to her.
I drove my car to Seattle instead of taking the shuttle, because I was only staying one night. My parents picked me up, and we had dinner at Spencer’s in the DoubleTree, San Jose and went back to their house. In the morning, I went to the golf course with my Dad and dropped him off, then headed to the church about an hour early to get the details down with the Bishop, who happens to be Julie’s uncle. Ultimately, there was no background music, and no accompanist so it was a Capella all the way, baby. It didn’t matter. That’s not why we were there. Tom’s sister is a nun, and two of her nun sisters offered to back me up on the song I didn’t know…..picture it! Me, singing with three nuns.…these women were awesome, and we just knew that Tom was somewhere laughing at the scene. There were wonderful readings done, beautiful history being revealed by all of Tom’s loved ones.
After the service, I made a beeline for Julie’s. I didn’t know anyone except for Julie’s sisters and kids (and of course my new nun friends) who I knew would be very busy accepting condolences and trying to be brave, so I thought I might be better put to use at the house preparing food, or laying out serving dishes.
I got there and tried to make myself useful. The house was very soon packed with people…family, friends, neighbors, co-workers. I sat and flipped through photo albums that were laying out and saw Julie’s amazing talent for creating memories in a tangible form….pre-school pictures of our now high schoolers. The baby shower invitation that I made for her now 8 year old. So many memories.
Early in the afternoon, some of Tom’s close friends held a separate ceremony that was open to anyone. I found myself so glad in heart that they held a service in the Catholic Church that reflected their family’s joint heritage, and then delighted to see a more private ceremony that reflected Tom’s later commitments. There was a gentleman close to Tom that conducted a meditation, and a sage healing ceremony in a more Native American tradition. It was wonderful.
As the afternoon progressed, I realized that I had to pick up my Dad at the golf course so I went to tell Julie good-bye and to give her a big hug. “I wish I could stay”, I said. “and just….take care of you.” Julie said, “Then stay.” I said, “Well, I have to fly out tonight, I have to be in L.A. on Thursday.” she said, “Cancel your flight. Stay until Thursday.” I looked at her. “I’ll check with Jason.” A few minutes later I found a quiet spot in the house and called Jason who said, “Of course, stay.” Then I got online to change my flight and was able to with not one cent of additional cost. Must have been meant to be. Anyway, it was Saturday and I extended my stay until Tuesday. That way I could be home late Tuesday night, spend Wednesday with my family before I had to leave again on Thursday.
So that afternoon I picked up my Dad, had dinner with my parents, then drove my mom’s BMW Z4 convertible back down to Julie’s where I got her stinking drunk on Irish Car Bombs to try to numb the day. The next morning more of her family came to take the kids somewhere fun. Julie opted to go for a ride with me in the BMW to the beach where we talked about Tom. We cried a lot, we laughed a lot, and I just ached to make it better. It’s the most helpless feeling to not be able to soothe a friend’s heartache and know there are just no right words.
Julie and I have a history of re-decorating…we crackled the table that still resided in her new kitchen, and she helped me stencil my kids’ room a million years ago. So, she suggested that maybe while I was there we could do a room. She said that Tom hated a few of the rooms that were already decorated when they bought their new house, so I suggested that we take the room he hated the most and change it. The bathroom. It had pink and a sickly greenish-taupe stripes on one wall….and in less than two hours it was transformed to a beautiful warm wheat color with towels and décor in deep red and gold tones. Ta daaaaaa!!
Julie was on the phone dealing with stuff she should never have had to deal with. It just feels so wrong to be having to explain to people over and over in the same conversation, “Look, my husband is dead. He won’t be USING your gym again and you need to cancel his membership, I don’t giving a flying $%&@ about the contract!!” I listened without meaning to while painting, and the next thing you know I was done. Julie was so pleased she said, “Can we do another room?” Absolutely. Here are the results of that New Baseball Room for her son, Ryan that we tackled the following day. The impotent friend who can’t make it better…. This is what I do. I get her drunk and re-decorate. We do what we can.
I’m just so sad. I know it’s not my loss….but I just grieve to the point of pain when I think of my beautiful Julie hurting like this. Tom’s enormously talented son, Dylan working through this and new challenges in his acting career as his show ends this summer. Their son Conor in the most volatile time of his teens, and their sunny child Ryan as he pretends it all going to be okay. I love them all so much, and I just wish decorating and cooking fried chicken for them could make it all better. As my sweet friends who feel like family struggle to adjust, I can’t stop thinking about them. I even emailed Julie a report meant for my boss because I was thinking about her. I bet I’m the only friend that sent an analysis of Hewlett-Packard instead of flowers. *sigh*
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