Planks of the Dock: For Lori who passed on to the light on April 15, 2008

This morning my friend passed away.
Her death was not unexpected. No, death was always lurking in the shadows. Only the shadows were named ovarian cancer. For as long as I’ve known Lori, she’s been fighting off this deadly cancer that consumed her body to the end. This is not about cancer though. This is about my friend; which is more about an individual that not only touched my life, but touched others in a way that was foreign to most; a sweetness so deep running through her being that you wondered sometimes if it was true.

The last year, I raged my own internal battle with life. I was mad at Lori. I was mad at God. I was mad. Mad because no matter what my friend did, the cancer always came back; Surgery, Chemo, Radiation, Experimental studies. She fought and she struggled. Her tears were cried in private. She dreamed her dreams only knowing that in this life they were never going to come true. She remained strong. She remained graceful. I always thought cancer was punishment from God. Why did God do this to Lori? I renounced God!

So here I am at my keyboard, drinking a glass of red wine, thinking about Lori. With the news of her death this morning, I did not feel sad. I felt relieved. I felt that my friend was no longer holding on, she was no longer in pain. She is in a place where her giggles have returned. This pain in my heart I’ve felt for so long opened up today.

Our hearts are so tender.

Lori loved Patrick Swayze. We used to tease her all the time that he was the shortest man alive. She would get really mad and defend Patrick. She loved the movie Dirty Dancing.

We had a longstanding joke about Pirate Booty. Lori and I almost died in quicksand one day over in Langley. Lori with Pirate Booty in one hand, iced tea in the other, and her purse on her shoulder, she was determined that the quick sand was not going to take her down. By the time I reached Lori on the beach, she was 12” down and still sinking. I told her she just needed to let go of what she was holding and fall to the side so I can help her. A true to life metaphor for our friendship; we survived that day with mud from head to toe, but needless to say, we survived. The shoes became a trophy for Lori. A moment she could always return to and laugh. .
Lori was the Godmother to my dogs; Howie and Shelby. Shelby’s favorite pastime was snuggling up with Lori on the bed. Howie just liked to boss her around and demand food. Like the great Godmother that she was, she always complied with their wishes.
We tried many workouts through the years; swimming, working out in the weight room at the high school, pilates, yoga, walking the loop at Washington Park, running the track at the high school, floating in the lake, sailing, go to Thrive fitness. I almost forgot the Little Cranberry trail. One of those days, I thought we were both going to have heart attacks. We met many people during these workouts. Spence and Rick at the high school. I remember one time we actually were walking through Washington Park when it was pitch black. We knew no fear together. Lori, Shelby, Howie, and I – we were living life. We liked to talk, laugh, share a meal together; breakfast at café adrift and cheeseburgers at the brown, drink coffee, shop, watch movies, and go on road trips. By the way, Lori loved Coca Cola! Loved it!
We once went to Canada for the weekend up in Whistler. We made the mistake of sharing a California king bed with my Aunt Cyndy. Lori on one side, Cyndy in the middle, and myself on the other side of Cyndy. Lori and I did not get much sleep, even with the Opera playing in the background. There is no silencing Cyndy once she starts snoring. Lori and I were both in our own private hells that night. That trip we were also summoned to Border Patrol for questioning. We were smuggling in Codeine and Rocks. Such criminals – After that adventure Lori stayed far away from us.
Lori was in essence like a mother to me. She nurtured me, she listened, she was there. When Howie was dying, she didn’t leave my side. She stayed here at the house on the couch all through the night. Sometimes that’s all a person needs in this world is for a person to be there. Lori was always there for me. When I was crying over a broken heart on the corner of N Avenue out in front of the Masonic Hall one Easter day, she was there holding me, telling me it will be ok. She was my pal. She was the one I felt safe enough to share my dreams and sadness with. She listened to what I had to say. She let me process years of hurt without judging. I like to think Lori was God’s gift to me for never feeling the compassion and love I so needed as a child. I feel that now. Even though Lori is gone, in my heart, that love remains. She made a difference in my life. She gave me the love I so needed to thrive. I hope that wherever she is, she knows what a blessing she was in so many people’s lives. How much the simple kind gestures she did on a daily basis made a difference. Lori, Cyndy, and I liked to laugh. We did a lot of that together. I like to think that Cyndy and I brought a whole hell, excuse me Lord, lot of levity to Lori’s life. I’ll keep my mouth shut on the rest of the story. Lori would have wanted it that way. As much fun as we had, she was full of grace, and even when we threatened to kick her out of the car on a country road if she didn’t scream “F***”, she didn’t waver, she was like that, full of integrity to the very end.