That’s me that you can see halfway behind the girl with the pie. I have glasses and a high school letter jacket. This story is about the girl standing behind the girl with the pie, wearing a black jacket and jeans, watching the action.
I got a message this week about my friend, Nancy. We went to college together and lived next to each other on the freshman floor of the women’s dorm in our small Oklahoma liberal arts college. We were good friends then, very good friends and we stayed in touch after college. The advent of FaceBook allowed us to be in closer touch. So, it was on a group chat that I received the news that Nancy, who had been diagnosed with early onset Alzheimers, had been moved out of the home into a hospice. No wonder she hadn’t responded to me for the last few years. But what a way to learn why.
Nancy came to college in the fall of 1983 with a Brand New 1983 New Yorker. (car) It was vast and lush. We could get nearly eight girls in it at a time. It was white with a maroon interior. I had never ridden in anything like it. And, it talked. Seriously, it talked. It would say, “A door is ajar.” And, because we all had that first year of college humor going, we would chime in, “No Charlie, A door is a door, a jar is a jar.” We thought we were hysterical. It was a magical time that will live forever in our hearts and minds.
Nancy was particularly humorous. Never a good student, she had made a name for her humor and her way of loving everyone. She came from a very wealthy family and while they hoped she would get a BS, it was more likely that her degree would be an MRS. But we didn’t care. We were wild and carefree in a wholesome, church-related college sort of way. Nancy was everyone’s friend and everyone was Nancy’s friend.
So, learning of Nancy’s diagnosis and the move was a shock. It was more than just a shock about her, it was the sudden maelstrom of a developmental stage becoming imminent. We had suddenly reached the stage of life when it wasn’t our parent’s friends, but OUR FRIEND’S dying. I knew this was coming, I had lived through it before my time in the late 80s and early 90s when our young men were dying left and right before their time from AIDS. It threw me for a loop then, but we had no time to process it because another friend would die, then another. Now I have time to process and given a choice, I’d rather be oblivious to it.
College, especially that first year away from home, has a special place in my memories and heart. That wild, carefree time of dogpiles, studying in the hall, and making ice cream runs to Baskin Robins has undergone the magical process of becoming a then and now a reality for me. I know reality wasn’t perfect. One girl on the hall had a baby at Christmas break after not realizing she was pregnant. I had a suicide attempt that put me in the hospital for a week. It wasn’t perfect, but it was still a magical time and gave me magical memories. One of my friends described listening to a TV show where a character said, “A door is a jar.” No, Charlie, a door is a door… I laughed until I cried.
Nancy died a few days after being placed in hospice. From her husband’s description of her organs shutting down before the move, I knew it would be soon. But this was too soon, in oh so many ways.
Nancy, you took a piece of our youth with you, and yet, we will all live as eternal youth in our hearts and minds. Good night, Nancy. Good night, Charlie. Rest well, good and faithful servant. I will miss you.