Six Months

I broke down today. Again.

It’s been six months since Stacy’s passing, and I miss her terribly. More than words can say.

Thing is... I am usually really good at keeping it together at work. But today… I couldn’t.

A woman dropped by the office with a question, and before the conversation could carry on, she said, “I love your shirt! Where did you get it?”

I was wearing one of the T-shirts that Stacy gifted me a couple of years ago for my birthday.

On it, it says: “Be real, not perfect.” I proceeded to tell her where it came from, but not before tears began streaming down my face.

She apologized, and I said, “Don’t. There’s nothing to apologize about. I am still grieving my best friend who recently passed away. She was a lifelong friend. I just miss her extra today, which is why I’m wearing this shirt.”

She asked me her name, so I told her.

She then gave me a feather she had just found and said, “This is meant for you.” And then she told me that Stacy was with me, and that I would be okay.

Bawling.

I found out from my colleague after she left that she is a tarot card reader and a bit of an intuitive. I don’t know what you believe about these things. I only know that, in that moment, I needed to hear it.

This isn’t the first time since Stacy’s passing that I’ve received a message from a stranger or from someone I haven’t seen in a really long time. A few weeks ago while I was at the grocery store, I ran into a former colleague I worked with nearly 20 years ago. She wanted me to know something.

For a little context, early in my career I was an EA with the Rainbow Board and worked as a child and youth worker with children with behavioural challenges. For a few years, I worked one-on-one with a particular student.

Over the years, I’ve often wondered how she was doing and where life had taken her.

My former colleague told me that this student grew up to become an EA herself. She had often shared with my colleague how much I helped her, how she remembered me being there for her, and how much that support meant to her.

Twenty years later, she still remembered how I showed up for her.

I can’t quite put into words what it felt like to hear that.

It was, hands down, one of the most meaningful things anyone has ever shared with me.

When you’re in the thick of it, you don’t always realize the impact you have on people.

We go through life doing our jobs, showing up day after day, and often never know what those moments mean to the people around us.

But they do mean something.

Every act of care, compassion, encouragement, and acceptance leaves an imprint.

I didn’t know I needed to hear that day, but it absolutely made my day. It was almost like I was guided in THAT grocery store on THAT day, so I could hear THAT message.

And then just the other day a song came on the radio and it immediately made me think of her. It reminded me so much of the kind of friend she was.

She was the kind of person who actually lived the words in that song; the kind of friend who would say, If you need a shoulder, come over. It’s all good. I’ve got you.

That was Stacy.

The lyrics say:

If you need a drink, then I'm buying

If you need a minute to think, I got time

If you need a shoulder, come over, it's all good

Baby, cry on mine

If you need a hand, I got two

If you're in the mood to dance, I got moves

If you need a night in, a night off, a phone call

Baby, I got you

This song was such a reminder of who she was and how she showed up in my life.

It’s funny how a song can bring someone right back to you.

Oh, and the Facebook memories.... I both love and hate them. I love seeing the memories we've created as friends but some days it's a real kick in the gut...

I miss the smile on her face when she caught a glimpse of me. She was always so happy to see me.

I miss her warm and embracing hugs. I miss our chats, our hikes, our coffee dates.

I even miss her drama.

I miss her unconditional love and acceptance.

I miss not being able to make more memories with her and celebrate life’s moments — the big and the small achievements.

There are so many things I miss.

But then there are the little things that make me wonder if maybe she’s still finding ways to let me know she’s around...

The day I planted her tree, after everyone left, I watered it. While I was watering it, a butterfly came, landed on the tree, and paused for a moment. I like to believe it was Stacy stopping by to say thank you.

And then there are the white feathers I find on my walks. Maybe they’re just feathers. Maybe they’re something more. I don’t really need to know. I just like to believe that sometimes, in the middle of all this grief, she finds a way to remind me that she’s still with me.

The strange thing about grief is that there are still good things happening.

So many amazing things have happened to me since her passing.

I’ve reconnected with old friends, some of whom I hadn’t seen in years.

I’ve made new friends.

I’ve gotten to spend time with people I care about, talking and sharing memories about Stacy.

Some people have simply dropped back into my life. Others have shared messages thanking me for how I treated them.

There was my student's story who grew up and became an EA.

There was the woman at my office today.

There were the white feathers.

There was the butterfly.

There were the two birds I saved from my greenhouse.

There was seeing Stacy’s children accept her PhD on her behalf.

There was seeing her oldest daughter graduate from grade school.

There have been people showing genuine concern for my well-being.

There have been so many reminders that life continues to happen, even when your heart is carrying something heavy.

There are more good days than bad days. But the bad days still come. Today was one of them.

And maybe that’s the thing I’m learning.

Losing Stacy has taught me how deep pain can be felt. But it has also taught me how love feels. I’ve learned how hard it can be to lose someone you loved so much. And the lesson in that is making sure you tell the people you love how much you love them.

I’ve learned to look past all the things that drive me crazy about a person and accept them and love them as they are.

I’ve learned to let go of the things that really don’t matter. To focus on the things that do.

For me, that has meant spending more time in my gardens, in the forest, and with my family. It means putting 1000% of me where it matters, and none where it doesn’t.

It has meant loving my family a little bit harder. Especially my boys.

It has also, unfortunately, instilled some irrational fears of dying early and leaving my kids.

Urgh. So ridiculous! But grief has changed me.

I’ve learned to feel the pain that comes with loss. To feel the joy that comes with the memories of our time together.

To laugh about all the crazy things we did together.

To feel the guilt of not doing all the things I said I would do.

But more importantly, to feel the pride of calling her my friend.

It's been Six months

Six months without Stacy.

Six months of missing her.

Six months of learning how to carry the loss.

Six months of realizing that grief doesn’t mean every day is terrible. It means that sometimes you can have a really good day and then completely break down because of a shirt, a song, a Facebook memory, a feather, a butterfly, or a chance encounter in a grocery store.

Today, I broke down. Again.

And maybe that’s okay because I loved her. Because I still love her.

Because 40 years of friendship doesn’t just disappear.

She may not be here for the next coffee date, the next hike, the next celebration, the next ridiculous conversation, or the next song I want to send her.

But she is still part of me. And I am incredibly proud that I got to call her my friend.

Perfectly IMperfect,

S