Expedited Grief

On our way to soccer yesterday, my son remembered, “Oh hey Mom, this guy called the other day when you were gone and said his wife Jennifer died. Sorry, I forgot to tell you that.”

What?! Really?! You forgot?! Someone died, and you FORGOT!?! (I continue to be astounded by the aloofness and cluelessness of my kids, sometimes. Alas, I’ll save that rant for another day.)

He couldn’t remember the man’s name or when exactly he called. There was no identifying number on Caller ID. I could think of only one person it might be but wasn’t sure how to proceed. How do you just randomly call someone you haven’t heard from in several years and ask if his wife is still alive? Thankfully, this person had also left a message for Bert on his cell a few days later, thus verifying my suspicions and giving me an opportunity to reach out to him.

When we finally spoke, he told me his wife passed away over a year ago. Turns out she had hidden her address book in the piano bench and he just found it last week and called us. Jennifer had a liver disease. She was quite sick and ailed while she awaited a transplant. She was next on “the list.” Her opportunity arrived a week after she passed. It’s always in the timing. So very sad.

(Ironically, I had another friend who was enduring a liver disease at the exact same time. Through an amazing connection, he received a transplant from a living donor and slowly improved and became healthier at the same time that Jenn slipped away. Astounding story – read it here.)

Her husband told me so abruptly, I was taken aback. He’d already managed through it. He’d moved on with his life, he said. His head was in a different place than mine at the moment. While his head was reconciled and he had come to terms with the loss, my head was swimming. I had 15 minutes to process the news and get a grip on my expedited grief.

While we hadn’t spoken in several years, Jenn was a large part of my life for several years. She babysat my youngest daughter for two years, so I saw her twice a day every day for two years. Then we hung out as friends for several years after my daughter entered pre-school. She moved, we got busy, I moved, calls were fewer, we had young kids, they were empty nesters, etc. Different lifestyles. Different priorities. Friendships just drift away sometimes.

It’s a surreal thing to know that she’s gone; to know she’s BEEN gone for over a year, and I knew nothing about it. I missed her illness. I didn’t get to comfort or visit her. I didn’t get to grieve her. I didn’t get to support her husband or family during their grief.

It’s not about me…I get that, but I feel like I missed the opportunity to be a friend in her time of need. Of course, she could’ve contacted me during that time and didn’t – so there’s a reason. And the husband could’ve contacted us without the address book – I mean, it’s pretty easy to locate someone’s number using the Interweb! Again, he didn’t – so there must’ve been a reason; just as there was a reason he reached out to me a year later.

I have no idea. All I know is she’s gone. It’s weird to grieve without the conventional process. I missed it, and I will miss her. RIP Jennifer.

What I learned today: Ignorance is bliss.