Sunday mornings are my favorite. I’m filled with optimism as I sit in bed, cup of coffee on my nightstand, iPad in my hands, and read The London Times Sunday Edition. It’s a good way to decompress after a long week, catch up on what’s been going on in the world, and just be. Today, I’ve found myself thinking of others in my life and their lives. It’s just now I realized — all of my friends are Super Heroes.
I want to be the best friend I can possibly be. And sometimes, being the best friend I can be means not hanging out, contacting others, etc., due to my own issues. I love having the support, but there are times when you have to work through your own problems without dumping them on others. My friends have acknowledged that, and at the same time, been there every step of the way.
One friend who’s been here every step of the way for me this year lost her mother unexpectedly this morning. She lost her sister earlier this year. Where we started off as friends, we’ve become lifelines to each other in a storm of unexpected and overwhelming WTF? since January. It’s been comforting and unsettling, knowing someone else has been experiencing so much of what I’ve experienced and I can only support and follow along as she experiences things far worse due to always precarious health of her children (both transplant recipients due to rare genetic disorder).
Another friend texts every day to check on me. I check on her. We send each other goofier photos by the day. Trust me, you’ve not lived until you’ve circulated a photo of yourself wearing a pair of your son’s tightie whities on your head.
There are more, just like this. My best friend and I have been taking off at a moments notice. Four hours one way to go dress shopping? Not a problem. Three and one-half hours to get a pedicure? A no-brainer. We go knowing our husbands are the most supportive men on the planet.
There are times I’d love to sit here and just cry, but there have been few tears this year. Because no matter how bad it’s been, I know I have people who’ve willingly carried these burdens right along side me. Too many people to write about here and whose anonymity I’ll protect. While that doesn’t sound like much, it’s like knowing Wonder Woman is out there holding the falling building up just long enough so you can scramble out and then it comes crashing down.
My hope this Sunday, when life is always eternally optimistic, is that I can be their Wonder Woman when it’s my turn. Until then, I’ll keep my tiara and bracelets polished.