Find Yourself a Gina

I was sitting in a quiet corner of a San Francisco hospital cafeteria.  The lighting was intrusive. (Fluorescent lighting increases anxiety, I'm sure of it.)  My head was resting heavy in my hands.  Slumped over, my feet tapping uncontrollably, I couldn't stop the tears from coming. (I hate crying in public.)

Please God, not now.  Please don't take him.  Save him, restore his body. 

Please God, not now.  Please don't take him.  Save him, restore his body.  

I wrote this mantra in my journal and repeated it obsessively to myself. 

Joe had been transported from our local hospital earlier in the day for emergency open heart surgery to remove blood and clotting from around his heart, a result of previous attempts to drain his heart sac, which had been filled with over 900 ml of malignant fluid. (Turns out your heart sac is only meant to hold about 50 ml of fluid, just enough to provide lubrication between the heart and the sac around it.)  This was a sign the cancer was progressing.  Our bubble of hope, the one we had been living in for over six months as Joe breezed through chemotherapy with no issues or side effects, burst.   

I was alone for some time just praying and journaling, clenching every part of my body, waiting for the surgeon to call to let me know that Joe was out in recovery and everything was OK. (I knew nothing about this was OK.  But our goal for that night was simple, get Joe out of surgery without dying.  And it almost didn't happen.)  

There are a handful of people in my life that just "know" when things aren't OK.  My best friend Gina is one of them, her wife Cyn is another.  They reach out on instinct and a "knowing" that has been gifted to them by God and the Universe.

I got a text from Cyn asking if Joe was all right.  I must have filled her in.  Honestly it's all so hazy now.  I remember she asked exactly where I was, then told me to hold tight.  In the meantime, I received the call I was hoping to get.  Joe was out of surgery.  But he had coded and the doctor had to perform CPR before they could start surgery.  What???  

By this time a friend from church who works in San Francisco showed up to sit with me.  I was telling him that I didn't know what to do.  Do I spend the night in the hospital?  Go home and come back the next day? (I didn't like that idea, Joe was still in an induced sleep and vitals were touchy. I mean, he had technically died.) Or should I stay close by somewhere?  

Then I swear I blinked and Gina was next to me.  I don't even remember how, but there she was.  

She hugged me, then got to work.  She called around to hotels and made reservations.  She told me she would be staying the night with me.  I didn't have strength to argue, and truthfully didn't want to be alone - she knew this.  She told me we weren't going to leave Joe in the City, we would be right down the street.  She Googled and found a Target down the block.  "We'll go and get some necessities, a toothbrush, body wash, deodorant, underwear...Lovie, have you eaten?  You need to eat."  I was like a child wandering lost and aimless, in total shock (and no I hadn't eaten since I couldn't remember when).  She told me how it was going to go down.  One less decision to make, one less task to handle. It was done, and she would be with me.  We would do this together.  Relief.

After Joe passed, things went gray.  Life went out like a light.   

I want to be alone, but don't want to be alone.  I want people to ask me about Joe, then get annoyed when the wrong people do.  I want to change the painful environment around me, but don't want anything touched.  Nothing about it makes sense.  It's like living in a nightmare and never waking up, just waiting for sleep to dream of normalcy, and only getting broken fragments of the life you once lived.

In my saddest moments, I call on Gina, knowing she'll let me keep Joe as present as I need him to be.  And when I have the tiniest breakthroughs, little whispers of hope, I share those with her too. 

Below is a text conversation I had with Gina shortly after Joe passed.  It's just a peek through the window of our friendship...

o   Me:  Have you started the book? (Glennon Doyle’s Untamed).  It’s awesome so far.  I need Glennon right now.  She wouldn’t tell me to “choose joy,” like the tshirts and mugs these self-help personas are pushing online.  I guess every season has a hero.  In this season I need more grit, truth, and reality (even if it’s ugly).  I can’t gratitude and smile my way out of this one…

o   Gina: Yes, started it and love it.  There’s a way that she talks about just accepting wherever we are and not pretending, hiding or needing to be or feel a certain way because others tell us to do so.  And no gratitude or smile is necessary right now…it’s the other stuff – anger, sadness, depression that must be felt and experienced in order to get to the gratitude.  How did I end up with such a smart and intuitive friend?

o   Me: Yep, exactly.  Those are also the feelings I rarely let happen. I internalize and it’s never led me anywhere good (mentally) when I do that.  No way through this time but to do the work.  Love you.

o    Gina:  And Lovie you had to do that because you’ve ALWAYS been the rock to your family of origin, to Joe during his illness, and to Jakey.  I see how you hold Jakey so lovingly when he’s angry or sad…and let him have that space…but it's like how do you do that for yourself as well?  Allowing the other feelings that need attention and space, because of course you have those feelings - it’s all a part of the process.  Fuck gratitude and smiling right now!  (And love you more.)   

o   Gina continues: And Love I know you will get to that place eventually…I know this…you’ve been through so much and you are the least bitter or angry person I know.  But I also think it’s important not to ignore or internalize or stuff those feelings, because it’s part of your process.  I’d be very worried if you were just grateful now.  Hell, I feel angry at the Universe that this happened, and we knew Joe a sliver compared to how much you knew and loved him.  So delve into Glennon, because she is church for being real wherever we are at.

Through grief, Gina continues to be my shelter in the storm.  Chalk that up to 20 years of friendship woven together with crazy college stories, living together for years, and adventuring through Central and South America together on multiple trips. 

Gina is not the family I was born into, but she is the family I have chosen.  If Joe is my soulmate, then Gina is my soul sister. 

Gina stood next to me at my wedding and gave a speech that brought down the house.  She loved Joe like a brother, and she and Cyn were there the day he was released from the hospital into hospice.  I know Joe made her promise to stay close, to look after me (as if he needed to ask).  He knew she was the one who would do it.  

If you don't have a friend of this caliber, one who gets you, one who comes running when you're in a pit of despair to throw out a lifeline, one you would climb a mountain with just to experience a sunrise...I highly recommend you get one.  Granted, it will take you decades to build up this kind of rapport.  It will take trust and intention and the ability to love someone who isn't your blood as if they were.  It will take vulnerability and arguments, and letting each other grow.  It's nearly impossible to find, but so worth it if you do. 

Gina accepts me for who I am, without judgement, without reservation, and with total love and understanding.  I'm a hot mess right now - she loves me anyway. Period.    

I can only hope I have been half the friend to her that she has been to me.

I am walking through fire right now.  Gina hasn't tried to save me.  She knows "through" is the only way out, so she just walks with me.  She doesn't ask why we're walking or how long it will take, or even where we're going. She just walks.  I enjoy the company.  And besides, the conversations along the way will be epic.