Tough Week, Anyone???

Some days are delightful from start to end. Some weeks are, too. Then there are those other days...sometimes strung together with sleepless nights and dark days.

I recently lost a very close friend - not from Covid 19, but from the scourge of cancer. She had breast cancer quite a long time ago with no recurrence of the disease. She was vacationing when she had some trouble breathing which eventually led to ER, hospitalization, scans of every sort, and a tragic diagnosis. Cancer had returned in multiple places, including the esophagus, lung and brain.

She was always upbeat about her life and circumstances, and this was no exception. As a poet/author, she could be very cryptic and that was how she spoke if this illness for the past few months. No details. Cheerful. Highly cryptic updates that left one to try to figure out just how bad it must be for her.

We had 26 years of deep spiritual companionship along with a delightful, playful friendship. Our lives were very different on so many levels, yet whenever one faced difficulties, the other would have a mirror-like situation in her life. We would compare notes as to what life was trying to teach us, and were able to see our own truths by witnessing the truths of the other.

I recall calling her on one occasion after Frank and I had moved away. We were left with long distance phone calls to share our lives. This particular day or week for me had been very stressful and unpleasant. I remember asking her, "What the heck is going on in your life right now? My life is a mess, so maybe I can figure out how to sort it out if you tell me what's going on for you!" In our sharing, we always came to a place of clarity and peace, ready to move on through that particular life lesson.

Each year, we celebrated each of our birthdays by going to our favorite Chinese restaurant in Middletown, NJ. We both would order Cashew Chicken, enjoy the hot tea, and then she would order her sister's favorite dish to-go. She was always thoughtful of others, this is but one example of her kindness.

She came to visit one summer and we sat on our porch swing having a lovely afternoon before driving down to Fisherman's Creek and the Fish Hatchery to watch the Great Blue Heron's return to their rookery at dusk. She was thrilled to witness such a wonderful event watching close to 100 herons flying in for the night. And we were so happy to share it with her.

As I work through different layers of grief and loss, there are so many funny little things that come to mind about what she said, did and how she lived. She was an environmentalist, for sure. She was the most frugal person I know with water. She understood that water is our most precious commodity, something we cannot live without. And she never wasted one bit and timed her showers to be as short as utterly possible, to save our natural resource.

She was also an advocate for the handicapped. She could not remember a time before juvenile rheumatoid arthritis was not a huge determining factor in her every movement, activity, and chore. Yet, when I met her, I didn't even realize she had a handicap! She was very clever at deflecting attention away from herself and minimizing the effects of the disease in her abilities to do everything she chose to do. I remember one turning point in her openness with me about her handicap. She was ready to sit down, but the chair was accidentally bumped by another friend. Vikki landed on the floor, in a state of shock/surprise. Her sense of humor immediately took charge, and that was the day she taught me how to help her get up off the floor - without hurting her, doing too much or doing too little to assist. And I recall now, with some embarrassment, how I never quite understood why she delighted in having her nails done. To me, it was a needless expense, a frivolity. She never told me that there was no possibility for her to do her own nails, given the warped finger joints she lived with. But that never occurred to me - until much later.

She became a champion for the disabled - from writing letters to movie theaters requesting space at the end of the back rows for wheel chairs to fit in, out of the way of others in the theater, but allowing those with the need of a wheel chair to not have to try to get out of the chair and into the theater seat without falling. Little things, to most of us who are not handicapped. Big things for those who ARE handicapped. Vikki wrote a blog focused on championing the needs of the disabled population. She saw what others needed, and set about trying to evoke change so supply that need for the wider public. She spread good news on Facebook about legislation for the handicapped - and noted when such legislation failed to support the disable population.

So, Miss Vikki, it's our final farewell in this reality. Our love is eternal and I look forward to joining you when my time is right.

In memory of Miss Victoria Kaloss, with love.