I Haven't Walked This Way Before

Twenty-three years ago, on October 31st, Michael and I moved into this house. We didn't celebrate Halloween that night. Our neighbors noticed. The doorbell rang. Expecting trick-or-treaters, I answered it. Instead of goblins greedy for candy, it was my nearest neighbor and her two children bringing us homemade treats. This was my first meeting with the neighbor who would later become the best neighbor ever.

Over the last 23 years, we've watched our children grow, her two and my five. We have had the freedom to call upon one another for just about anything.  In a rainstorm, she called in a panic, could I please go into her home and comfort her dog who was terrified of thunder. We have prayed for each other, and for our kids. I can't tell you how many times I've borrowed a cup of sugar,  a can of tomatoes, an egg, an onion, even a cup of coffee. I'm thankful that I've been able to  reciprocate.

When we hadn't seen each other for awhile, she would call me or I would call her. "I'm on my way to the grocery store, can I pick up a few things for you?" We usually knew when the other was under the weather or had a sick child.

Her son took my daughter and her friend to prom when none of them wanted to go with a date. My friend and neighbor rented a limousine for the occasion. We joked that neither of us had been out for a night on the town in a limousine and agreed to not wait for a funeral to ride in one.

Our kids are grown, and we remain neighbors. We catch up when we can, usually standing out in the front yard. My girlfriend was there for the weddings, showers, and births of grandchildren. (That's her with the umbrella.)

We send texts. Most mornings, my girlfriend shares scripture, or an encouraging word from her latest reading via text.

Sometimes, when life is hard, we sit in the dark, in the glow of the firepit. It's easier in the dark. The tears flow quietly, unnoticed. We don't feel the cold either.

I sent letters to her son, when he was in jail. She sent gifts to my new grandbabies.

On October 22nd, Debra sent me a text asking if she could borrow a couple of potatoes. I was at bible study and didn't see it right away. An hour later, I messaged her back. She never replied.

That night, Michael and I were quietly sitting when we heard a familiar truck sound.  I looked out the window to see the ambulance and firetruck.

Debra's son, her only son Neshan, passed away.

My heart shattered.

Where do we go from here?

I haven't walked this way before. I sobbed when 3 limousines pulled into the cul-de-sac to take my friend and her family to the funeral. It wasn't supposed to be this way.

I haven't walked this way before and didn't know what to say as we stood arm-in-arm before his open casket.

I haven't walked this way before, but I will be here my dear friend. I will be here when the cold, hard darkness keeps you awake in the middle of the night. I will be hear in the early mornings, when the warmth of the sun reminds you of your son. I will meet you out front, a shoulder for your tears and I will cry with you.

I'm so sorry. I believed in Neshan. I prayed for him. I always knew God had something better for him. I did not expect the better to be heaven...at least not yet.

Truthfully,

Joanne

"Let not your heart be troubled; you believe in God, believe also in Me. In My Father’s house are many mansions; if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself; that where I am, there you may be also." (John 14:1-3)