Sandwiched
As I was eating lunch last Thursday, I saw a Facebook post that made me freeze in shock. My best friend from the time I was a baby until I was 16, also named Amy, had suddenly died in her sleep the night before.
I read and re-read her sister’s post in disbelief. It couldn’t be true. Amy’s birthday is just six days apart from mine and I was looking forward to wishing her a Happy 50th this month. I knew she’d be wishing me the same the next week. She was a happy, healthy woman busy with being a professor at MSU in Denver, traveling, and sharing the antics of her ornery but hilarious cat, Truman, on social media.
Our families met before we were even born thanks to her great aunt Sharon and uncle Jack living next door to my parents’ house. Sharon and Jack were my godparents. Their daughter Lisa was my favorite babysitter. Jack’s sister Rita was one of my mom’s closest friends.
Soon “Amy Ellen” and “Amy Sue” – as we were called – were rolling around and babbling together as infants and later splashing in baby pools as toddlers. We lived about 15 minutes from each other, so our mothers made sure we got together for birthdays, Valentine’s Day, and every other holiday. We wrote letters to each other constantly.
When Amy moved just three blocks away from me at the age of 12, I was thrilled! We loved walking together to and from John Young Junior High School in Mishawaka. That was prime time for some serious talking, giggling, and petting the neighborhood’s friendly dogs. It was a rare day when we weren’t together.
We reunited in our mid-20s over lunch at Olive Garden in Mishawaka when she was in town from Colorado. It was a wonderful afternoon of stories, laughter, and just catching up in general. When Facebook came along, we enjoyed a new way of staying in touch and got to see how our lives were changing in our late 30s and beyond. I was so damn proud of her brilliance, her generosity, and her fearless exploration of the world.
I was overcome with grief last week and cursed this element of the sandwich generation – the beginning of the loss of good friends. How could a seemingly healthy woman just be taken away like this? Her Facebook page has been filled with dozens upon dozens of posts talking about how Amy influenced so many lives.
As I write this, her sister and mother are in Denver picking up the pieces from her death. She wasn’t married and didn’t have children, so this burden falls to them. I know there will be a celebration of life there and am hoping for one in South Bend as well.
There’s not enough room in one column to share the lessons I’ve learned from all of this, so stay tuned for part two next week. In the meantime, as we pray for so much during this turbulent time, please say a quick prayer for Amy’s family and friends. The just world lost another good one.