To Beckie: In This Life and Any Other

Thinking of Beckie as we approach the end of the first year without her beloved company on earth. Written June 5, 2009, after three weeks in hospital where she would live for over a year:

My best friend Beckie and I met on August 12, 1995 at 8:30 a.m. It was a bad day for me: first day at a new job. I was grieving about my youngest niece starting day care, after being with me for 3 years. I was close to tears all morning. It was a job I did not want, for a company I could not possibly like. My workspace was isolated, in a big room that was gray. It was hot, humid, miserable and I was wearing pantyhose.

And there was Beckie. She had bronze hair, and purple eyes. She was serene and glowing. She would laugh to read this. She emanated. I walked right up to her and introduced myself, a thing I'd never done. We meet people occasionally and wonder if we've met somewhere before.

Beckie and I didn't think about that in those early friendship months. We enjoyed as much time in each other's company as we could. We ate lunch together, we finagled our workspaces to be together, and had breakfast on Sundays at Clairpointe. We shopped for shoes. We laughed. We talked. Beckie has a functionally thoughtful, deeply grooved brain. If we have met before; if reincarnation is true, Beckie brought the previous brain with her each time she showed up on Earth again. Supernumerary brain. Her life view is ancient; her responses, fresh. Being in her company is like taking a sunlight shower, a moon bath. She is wise, reasoned, and soft-spoken. She is a humanist, and an excellent human.

We are both women of strong opinion, and commonality of opinion makes our relationship satisfying, but we are unconditionally devoted to defending each other, whether we agree or not. People who choose to confront Beckie have both of us to face, and vice versa. Beckie has the better diplomatic skills and has physically stood between me and the object of my ire more than once. Where I am volatile, she is steady; my weakness is countered by her strength.

She has a scientific mind, analytical and crystalline. And a warm, accessible soul. She can multitask with each of her otherworldly brains separately, and in combination with her soul. With two young sons growing fast in her home, she could still focus on designing and laying out a college textbook on ancient Greek papyrii. In Greek.

Beckie is quietly accepting of my wandering in metaphysics and general Piscean goofballiness. Yet it was Beckie who wrote a note suggesting that perhaps we had met in another life, and more than once, and maybe I might want to write about that? For two years after I was diagnosed with cancer, Beckie carried my consciousness for me; a sacred and profound oath of friendship, to be there in the world for me while I was not capable. I love her unconditionally. Fiercely. Eternally. Beckie is our Mother Earth; majestic, mysterious, magical. She is the rock that will take on the hard place if someone she loves is in between. I wonder if the ancients may have assigned to their deity of choice the qualities Beckie embodies in her human form. She causes me to want to be the best possible person I can be.

As she has taught me, I will focus on being stronger, accepting, and radiating hope; abandoning anxiety, false control and rage. If I've stuck one hesitant toe in the waters of heavenly energy before, now I will immerse all and summon the light to be with her always with love.