A Friend for 1 day vs. 365

This week, two separate friends asked me if I had plans for Christmas.  The first friend invited me over to spend time with her family on Christmas.  The second said she would call me because she might be alone too (I guess I am her backup plan).  Now, you might think that this is a nice gesture, but this actually had me feeling more down and lonely than ever.  These friends have made no attempts to connect with me in months and I should be happy that they want to spend 1 day with me, now.  No way!  I deserve and need more.  I am a widow with no children and most of my family living out of state; essentially all alone.  And like a lot of widows, I am struggling to find friends or people who actually want to spend time with me more than just 1 day a year.  I am lonely and missing my beloved Jesse each and every day, so why should Christmas be any different?    I need my friends every day and especially on weekends when I miss Jesse the most.  Why do they not want to spend time with me any of the other 51 Saturdays during this last year?  In all fairness, both spent time with me during this last summer, but I still feel hurt after months of nothing.  Many weekends this last year, I have been all alone, with no one to touch base with me at all.  It’s the worst and most lonely I have felt in my life.  Not only is my husband gone, but most of my friends are too just adding to the sadness, loss, and loneliness.

Cherry Coke

On the First Sadiversary (anniversary of Jesse’s death), my sister and I went to the Subway in Lincoln City, Oregon for lunch.  There it was at the soda fountain staring at me…..Cherry Coke.  I had successfully managed to avoid CC for an entire year and now it was calling to me on this most auspicious day.  My gut told me that yes; I should drink some CC in honor of my Jesse as this was the anniversary of his death.  So yes for the first time in a year in indulged and enjoyed a Cherry Coke.  You see I have some challenging memories of sharing CC with Jesse during his last days here on earth and even shared some with him on his very last day.  So it is painful for me to even think about CC at times.  I remember that first time that he asked me for a taste; him wanting to taste something other than the boring, bland ice chips which was all he was allowed.  I dipped my finger in the CC and put some on his lips and as he tasted it, his face registered pure joy.  I gave him tiny sips of the contraband liquid and he basked in the joy of the flavor.  We had shared many a Cherry Coke in wellness, but this was our first in illness as he lost his ability to swallow safely early in the battle.  And on his final day, when I told him I was going to the cafeteria to get something for lunch, he mumbled in his weakened voice “Cherry Coke”.  I understood what he wanted and we both knew this was to be his last sip of ecstasy that he would ever enjoy.  His nurse was none too happy scolding me and telling me that giving him fluids could prolong his death.  I told her I was not going to withhold one last little bit of pleasure from my dying husband.  I helped him take 3 tiny sips, all his strength would allow him; the last Cherry Coke I shared with my Jesse, 11/9/09.