Speaking of the salt of your tears,

I read this thru' the salt of mine. Flipper, you cannot know how much our lives have just intertwined.

I have had a treasured friend for 28 years. She and I met when both of our children were but 4. Hers with a rare disease involving blood vessels much too small. Mine with a brain tumor on the pituitary. Both Catastophic illnesses. We loved our beautiful babies, nurtured them through the most horrendous times, all the while remaining friends , trying to support each other, arranging times to share between our children and ourselves - through divorce, men-friends, child -rearing, births, her brother 's suicide, my parent's death - well---28 years of life. And in February of this year (the 12th to be exact) Johnny died. I thought I was going fall completely apart at this news. My own two children watched me crumble as they had never seen me. They were shocked and frightened that I would "lose it" to such a degree. My son Sam was 24, and my Nichole 32. Both were at home. Nichole because of her illness, and Sam, because of her illness. Sammy never felt he could leave us alone with such a great burden for us to bear alone ( I say burden because it was - the illness was a burden to Nichole, to me , and to Sam. But it was the illness, not Nichole. And Sam and I both knew this - sorry to say, I don't know if Nichole thoroughly understood this). I grieved horribly for "little John" (as he was named after Big John, his father) . He fought so long and hard for his life - he was expected to live no longer than 9 years. But this also was a tribute to my friend Bonnie, who took such excellent care of her boy that he lived to age 31. I was in such remorse, I cried daily, hourly, we spoke on the phone almost all the day. I sadly could not afford to go to her side and also could not leave my Nichole. So we went through Johnny's death by phone. Bonnie took me to his bedside while he lay dying by phone. She took me into the garage to smoke, freezing, and oblivious to it, needing that cigarette to calm her nerves. WE paced the floors, by pho;ne. And at last, he died, and I heard by phone. Then we went to the funeral - by phone. And after, and after, and after.

On April 14th, at 1:30 in the morning, I heard a cry from Nichole - (a seizure cry, which was normal for her) and lay to listen if it was going to be severe. It was not. It stopped immediately. But then I heard nothing else. No rustling of covers, no nothing. So I went to investigate and found her blue. I gave her cpr, to no avail. Paramedics came and eventually got a heartbeat, but she had been without oxygen for so long that her brain was gone. A week later, we let her go. 26 hours of agonal breaths, Nichole's body succumbed to death.

This seemed so cruel, and so coincidental, that Bonnie and I could not process this...We both were staggering . Trying to make sense of such craziness, but Sam said, "Well, this was preordained marriage in Heaven!" So. Ok. We bought that. Sounded good to us. Better than anything we had thought up.

And today, we are still processing this. Our first birthdays without our children, our first holidays.....our empty nests (Sam went to live with a girlfriend, partly out of need, since I now live 30 miles outside of the city and he works in the city)and your words ring true. They were such gifts. And I have posted this before, but out of Nichole's mouth, " I am a gift to this family, whether anyone knows it or not!" (Her fiesty self, but speaking of extended family, not Sam and me). Of course Nichole and I were of the same cloth - I have said that we fought daily and loved daily - and this was true. We enjoyed our fights - we would talk loudly and punctuate our beliefs adamantly believing we each were "right' - but later, it was always loving arms, apologies and I'm sorries. And back to reading in bed - where I would fall asleep and Nichole would gently say, "MOM, you're sleeping on me, could you just move a little?" So I would.

A mother's heart. How true. And how I thank you, Flipper.