A Friend Who Taught Me How to Live - And How to Die

Genanne was one of those friends that was a delight to experience. We always greeted each other with a hug, a kiss, an “I love you”, and a “Let’s get together”. Her smiles, hugs and kisses were like manna to my soul. Unfortunately “Let’s get together” are words more often spoken than acted upon. Such was that case with me and Genanne.

We really got to know one another in a class called “Art for the Spirit” taught by her daughter-in-law Susan. It was a wonder-filled class beginning with candlelight and the reading aloud of a children’s book with great illustrations. Once that got the creative juices flowing, we were turned loose to explore any medium of art we chose. While several tended to do more “color in the lines” type of things, Genanne and I gravitated together to become like children and do anything and everything, the messier the better. One of our favorites was finger painting. It was during that class that our bond was formed, a bond that surpassed all of the forgotten “let’s get togethers”.

Our friendship expanded in a women’s group, a drumming class and at a weekend retreat. We got together outside of these groups occasionally, always sharing stories of the “loves of our lives”, our children and grandchildren. No matter how much time and distance stood between us, the strands of love persevered. There was always going to be a next time to go out together, another year to go on a trip together, another time to just “be” together.

On one occasion, our Art for the Spirit group met at a state park. During a time of taking a contemplative walk, I came upon a glorious area called the Red Pine Forest. The atmosphere glowed red from the trees and the ground was soft as a mattress from fallen needles. It was an experience that drew me to tears and I hurried back to find someone to share it with me. Genanne and Susan, walked back with me and I wasn’t disappointed in their reaction to my wonderful little find. But Genanne showed me a greater depth to appreciating this display of nature. She not only enjoyed the forest, she became it. I watched in awe as she hugged a tree for a long time and then lay down on the soft ground as a peaceful angel of the forest. Right then I knew I wanted to be more like my friend Genanne.

Life circumstances at some point got in the way of our connection but, while I missed her, it never felt like a problem because there would always be another time to get together. Even when I heard that Genanne had pancreatic cancer, I still didn’t think of that time as being a precious, fleeting commodity. Perhaps my fear even got in the way of our connection because I didn’t want to admit that she might not be around for always. I think I tried to justify my lack of contact by telling myself I was honoring her spending time with her family but I’m not sure I was being honest with myself.

As the cancer progressed and I realized we weren’t going to be able to grow old together as friends, I wanted to spend time with Genanne. I wanted she and I to have as much time together as possible. I needed to get beyond that fear of death that rises up when you are losing someone you care about. It was just after Christmas when we spent several hours alone together at her condo. We finger painted, dressed up in her theatre prop beads and scarves, put flowers in our hair and danced. Even in her drug induced state, she was all the best of the woman I loved. As we sat in the dark, with just the lingering lights of Christmas, Genanne talked about her impending move to the Hospice House and for the first, and only, time told me she was afraid. We just sat holding hands and holding that fear in our hearts together.

The next week Genanne moved to an apartment at the Hospice House and invited me to lunch. As we sat and enjoyed what was to be the first of our weekly Wednesday lunches, we vowed to keep this date no matter what. When I left that day to go back to work, my friend held me long in a hug and said, “Please don’t stop coming”. I think she was as afraid of being left alone as she was of dying, perhaps more so. I went back to the office and arranged my schedule so that on Wednesday I was always free to spend a couple of hours with Genanne. At that point I could think of nothing more important for Genanne. I don’t think I realized how important it would be to me.

Those Wednesday lunches were life changing for me. We talked about the future even though knowing it was growing ever more shortened. We planned to drive to her Upper Peninsula cabin at a time that the doctors were telling her wouldn’t exist. We laughed until tears flowed as she described the box she had chosen for her ashes. She told me she was so happy I “got her”. When she wanted to go one more time to the women’s group at church with dinner out beforehand, I said I would love to be her escort. She chose a restaurant that required her to walk down a flight of stairs. When she assured me she could do it, I instructed her that if she fell, she was supposed to tuck and roll and I would pick her up at the bottom and we would act as if nothing had happened. Again we dissolved in tears if laughter.

One of Genanne’s goals in her too-short life was to go to the cabin with her family one more time. It meant that we would miss the first Wednesday lunch in three months. So that we could be together in spirit, I gave her a stone that I had carried with me for many years. She promised to carry it in her pocket and we kissed each other goodbye after what was to be our last lunch date.

Genanne came back from the cabin having fulfilled what was an important last dream and held on until she could say goodbye to her other two sons. Her life was complete, and even though she would have loved to spend many more years with her beloved family, she was ready to let go of this life that she so confidently claimed held no regrets.

It was a Monday afternoon when Susan told me that death was imminent in case I wanted to see Genanne. I struggled with going immediately but something in me told me to wait for our regular Wednesday date. It felt only right. I did go to the Hospice House at noon on Wednesday and said my goodbyes to my beloved friend. I hugged her, kissed her, told her I loved her and told her we would “get together sometime”. Though she was in a state that one might think she didn’t hear, I know she did. She opened one eye slightly and I told her I knew she loved me too. Genanne died the next day.

We laughed together. We cried together. Genanne taught me how to live – and how to die. I can’t explain it but I know I learned it in my heart and in my soul. I wish everyone on earth could have known her and learned what I did but my hope is that at least some of the people I care about will learn the lesson from me, by the way I live my life and the way I live my death. Goodbye sweet friend. Let’s get together sometime.

dlk