Words About a Friend

I started my day today the same way I start every day. I signed onto Facebook and checked Words With Friends. I have a friend that I’ve played that game with for six years—we always have a game going. This morning, Words With Friends had a new message for me, one I’ve never seen. It said my friend had resigned. It was a gut punch. A terrible reminder. But of course it said she’d resigned. She died yesterday.

I met Deb eight years ago when Monty and I moved here. She was my mom’s closest friend, and she quickly became my friend, too. She loved word games the same way I do, and when we discovered Words With Friends, it became something we shared. Something we had fun with but also took seriously—both of us are competitive. Not once in all the time we played had either of us resigned. So it made me bristle when I saw that message from Words With Friends.

Because Deb didn’t resign—that wasn’t her style. Her game had just . . . timed out. Like her life. She fought an excruciatingly painful battle with cancer, and she didn’t lose the battle or resign from it. God decided she’d fought long enough, and yesterday, He took her home.

My heart is broken for my Mom, for Deb’s kids and grandkids—for all of us left behind. But I’m rejoicing for Deb. She’s in the presence of the Most High, and she’s no longer suffering. She will never have to live through another night of pain and torment. She’ll never cry again.

But I will. Deb taught me so much, and I wasn’t ready for the lessons to be over. She was a woman of extraordinary faith. She prayed me through some of the hardest times of my life. She also exemplified loyalty in friendship. She was fiercely loyal to my mom and to the others she loved. In her last text to me, she told me she loved me. And she told me to be there for Mom when she no longer could be.

So Deb—this is for you. My promise in writing. I will be there for Mom—not the way you were. No one could fill your shoes. But I will do my best. I’ll remember that you loved me, and I’ll carry that knowledge always. Being loved by you and getting to love you in return was a precious gift.  I keep thinking about Words With Friends—how, if I took too long to play, it would say, “Deb is waiting on you.” I know you are, Deb. You’re with Jesus, waiting for the rest of us who loved you so much to join you. It’s so hard to say “loved”—to use past tense. You would have understood that, why changing that verb tense is so hard, so final. In my heart, you will always be present tense. You will always be with me. And I will carry your heart. Until we meet again, Deb—I love you.