Sandwiched
I met her in August of 1988 in McNutt Quad at Indiana University Bloomington. At first, Stacey was just an acquaintance – a friend of a friend. My friend April was actually closer to her than I was for a while. But Stacey gradually became a part of our circle during those first tumultuous months of college. I remember being drawn to her laughter and blue eyes.
Little did I know that this girl from The Region would eventually become my best friend.
She was there a few years later when my ex-boyfriend became overly emotional and showed up on her doorstep trying to find me. Stacey and I attended The Nutcracker Ballet that evening, one of my annual IU traditions, and I had no clue who had been at her apartment ready to turn my life upside down.
And even though she knew he wasn’t right for me, she was there when I married my first husband a year after graduation. Stacey gently tried to tell me to reconsider, but we all know how blind love is. And she kindly didn’t say, “I told you so” when I found the courage to leave him three years later.
When I did find the right man and had children in my early 30s, Stacey was there with a listening ear, good advice and patience, as she already had a preschooler and toddler. She had been around the parenting block a couple of times.
Through the wonders of online chatting, email and texting, Stacey and I began to communicate with each other almost every day. She soon became my “rock” in life.
So it was no surprise that she was there during one of the toughest days of my life in November 2016. That was the day I had to tell my mother she had to give up her house, her vehicle and essentially all she was familiar with and move to an assisted living facility.
I had told my husband to stay in Noblesville that week, as it was Thanksgiving break, to be with our sons. My sister Vicky lives in Florida and my brother Mark and his wife were down here searching for a good facility for Mom. Mom lived in Mishawaka at the time, which is 2 and 1/2 hours from here.
“You shouldn’t be alone during all of this,” Stacey said. “I’m coming over.”
On that Black Friday, when most people are normally shopping, decorating or just relaxing with their families, Stacey drove the hour and 15 minutes over to Mishawaka to sit by my side. Her presence was such a comfort as I talked with Mom, Vicky and Mark via conference call about what we would have to do. She made a hellish day more bearable and I’ll always be grateful.
I thought about all of this last Saturday as Stacey and I enjoyed lunch with my mother and husband. Mom’s memory isn’t the best. When she first heard Stacey was coming, Mom said, “I don’t remember her.” But after seeing and talking with her, she smiled and whispered to me, “Yes, I remember Stacey now.”
Of course you did, Mom. Because, as always, she was there.