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Missing Pea

By sandra gundersonPublished 7 years ago 19 min read
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It was a beautiful August day with the sun shining brightly down on my face with a slight breeze. I could see the flowers bloom in front of my eyes as the butterflies were resting their tired wings upon the delicate flower petals. The birds were chirping a lovely song as they serenaded one another. That is when I first saw her, sitting outside alone, smoking a cigarette, and using her laptop computer. She seemed to be deep in thought, typing away as if it were a marathon. I noticed she was older than your average college student, her short red curly hair framing her freckled face, and her glasses that seemed to suit her. I did not pay her any mind; I was hungry; food was my only concern at the time. A few days had passed and there she was again, sitting in the same spot, still typing away on her laptop. I went into the cafeteria, and when I came out with my tray a fellow-class mate was sitting with her. I stopped and sat down.

The first thing I noticed about this unknown woman was her piercing blue eyes, but there was something more there. I could see her soul in the deep blue waters flowing from within. Her face, etched in my memory forever. Each freckle seemed to have been painstakingly painted there by angles from above. My life would never be the same again, from that moment something special happened. There was an immediate connection. Something we all look for. There are no words to describe it, or what it does to your insides other than that ultimate connection from a lifetime ago. You can look into someone’s eyes and see yourself. You can see everything; your secrets that you have not shared with even your best friend, but you already see she knows what they are. That something from deep down in your belly tells you that you have found that one person who understands and knows what it's like to be you. You have finally found the missing pea that belongs in your pod. My missing pea happens to be called Ja.

We became fast, easy friends. The kind of friend that no matter what, or where you happen to end up in this crazy, screwed up life we live in, that person will always and forever be there right next to you, like a third arm hugging you. Seeing you through all the trials we go through. She will be there for you in all aspects of your life, the good the bad, and sometimes even the ugly. We can talk about everything, with no thought of the time as it just seems to fly by without any notice from the two of us or the world.

My husband has asked several times, “How we can lose track of the time and why we never seem to run out of anything to say?”

I reply, “There is so much we still have to talk about.” I know he would never understand.

Ja and I were talking about our pasts, again, and concluded quite quickly that we have lead parallel lives. We just did not know it at the time. We both have experienced the same things; just at different times in our lives. Here we are in our forties and attending the same college. How often does that happen in the real world? We finish each other sentences, just as twins do. We see each other every day, which was nowhere near enough time. We talk and realize we have had to have known each other from somewhere, sometime. We had to know what another possible outside world we came from to get to where we are today.

Our discussions led to families, friends, illnesses. It was bound to happen; it always does when meeting someone new for the first time. As it rarely happens, meeting yourself for the first time, just in a different skin. Sometimes we would laugh for hours, or look at each other like someone needed a trip to the state mental hospital. Sometimes we would just cry it all out, and there never seemed to be enough tissues. Though anyone knowing us knew that was not possible. Ja keeps everything in her suitcase size pocketbook, except the kitchen sink, only because there is no more room.

One of our discussions on illnesses led us to compare notes. There was no contest there. We both are survivors, just different types, under different circumstances, but we are what I consider most important, we survived. We both have lived each other lives at different times in our own lives. Four months after meeting Ja, she tells me she is sick and has been sick for some time. The doctors do not know what is wrong with her.

I wittingly reply, “Well, I can start a list, they just need to tell me if they want it alphabetically, numerically, or order of importance.” We have a good laugh before it’s turned into a somber topic.

Ja was sick before I met her, I just never knew. I saw the weight loss, the baggy clothes. I at first thought she was trying out for clown college. It took a few months for her diagnosis; stage four Crohns disease. I had no idea what that was, or if I wanted to know. She was dying, I knew what stage four meant, and that was all I needed to know. My missing pod pea was dying. I wanted to die with her, and I think at that moment, somewhere down deep inside, that same part that knew how she meant so much, also knew what her death would mean. I had to escape from this horrible reality, I wasn’t sure I wanted any part of. My mind and my heart were not going to let the physical me run away. My mind and my heart needed to stay with Ja, while my body had to learn to live with that. I watched my grandparents die, my parents die, a high school classmate die in the Twin Towers on 9/11. But this, this was totally different, unacceptable, and there was nothing that could make it right. No one could fix this. Nor would it be possible. I prayed to God that something could be done, a cure to be found before it gets too late. I am still waiting for that prayer to be answered. I will keep praying until it is answered because there is never going to be an end to Ja, there can not be. She is a part of me. She is me, just different; different in all the good ways.

At college, it was getting harder and taking longer for her to get to classes. She was so tired by the time we got there; I do not know how she did it. Just before we were to start finals in December, under orders from one of her many doctors, she withdrew. Her doctor wanted her to withdraw a month or so earlier, but Ja is a very stubborn, hard headed woman who was determined to finish the semester. At that moment, she felt helpless and hopeless. Trying to cheer her up was like pulling teeth with tweezers. But I continued to be there for her in any way I could.

She had not told anyone else, including her husband. I tried to explain to her that he must know, he needs to know, he deserved to know, he has the right to know. Sorry to say, she did not agree. Ja and I do not argue over anything but this. I understood she needed time to figure this all out before she told him. I understood. Thanksgiving was just three weeks away, and she did not want to ruin anyone’s Thanksgiving. I understood. Christmas was just a few more weeks, and she didn’t want to ruin that either. Holidays were running out, next she would come up with; Bill's promotion, Super Bowl Sunday, Valentine's Day, Bill's birthday. Ja never received her wish to not tell her family. One day while waiting for yet another prescription refill she collapsed waiting in line. She had to call her husband to come and get her. She told him once they arrived home. Things have not been the same since. He does not let her go anywhere for too long without calling, asking if she is ok. Men; go figure.

We still do the same girly stuff; talk on the phone, IM each other before the sun even thinks of making an appearance, taking care of our families, and shopping which we both hate but it must be done. We even get out, just the two of us for a cup of coffee. I must do all the driving as she is no longer allowed to drive; she is now having full blown grand mall seizers. I don’t mind doing the driving, because Ja drives like a grandmother, which she is, but no need to drive like an eighty-year-old grandmother. I do tell her that.

I have watched her shrink down from a size 12-14 to a size six. Looking at her today, she may be a size four. Sometimes I tell her I am thinking of the “B” word, can she guess it. I have never been a size four, even at birth. We laugh some more. I have had to take her shopping. No, she is no longer applying to clown college. Her clothes fit as they should. Thanks to me she is even a bit stylish. She still has that laugh and huge smile which makes her eyes sparkle. You can see the planning, scheming in her eyes, but she no longer has the strength to do what she wants. But how many of us can say we can do what we want, even in health. I know I can’t. She is still the same loving Ja on the inside, which is most important. She just cannot do all that she wants to do on the outside. We do as much together as we have allotted time. There never seems to be enough time, and looking back, where does it all go? I am still in college with her bright, beautiful daughter Alex, who knows nothing of her mothers’ illness. It’s so hard not to tell her, to hold her, and let her cry it out as one day she will, and I will be there for her.

Alex will have regrets of not saying things to her mother that she thought she would have a lifetime to say, but time will run out as lifetimes are never near enough time. I know I have had that same thought at the death of my own mother. Twenty-seven years after her death, I still talk to her telling her things I have always wanted to tell her. But most of all, I tell her that I love her. Moms can never hear, “I love you,” too much from their own children, or in Ja’s case her granddaughter, Mya.

We have spent the better part of the day together, here at my home. Her husband, Bill dropped her off, and I was to look after her until I drove her home later. Looking after Ja is like looking after a beautiful portrait hanging on the wall. You can see the wonderful colors, the beauty of the painting, the time that was taken to make it just so. We sat out back on the patio, enjoying the sun, drinking coffee, watching our dogs play together for the first time, and chatting as if we had not seen each other in a month of Sundays when I was at her house yesterday as it was her husband’s birthday. We talked about everything and nothing at the same time, as we always do. There was no rush to do anything or go anywhere. It was the most perfect afternoon, as any afternoon spent together has always been; except it happens too quickly. The sun was going behind the clouds and it began to get chilly. I put another pot of coffee on and we picked everything up off the patio.

We were in the kitchen; Ja was telling me that she must get her paperwork in order, like her will. She was talking about her friendship with Melanie, whom she has known for 24 years, and yet she feels closer to me. I was flattered. She was talking of a Godmother for her daughters, even though two are no longer minors. She stated that she would like for me to be their Godmother. She needed to get with her lawyer to have papers drawn up.

I was stunned with my reply asking her, “You have to have paperwork drawn up on being a Godmother?”

She replied, “Yes, and with the church.”

I was floored. I was taken aback. There was nothing I could say. I could not speak. I must have looked like a deer in headlights, blankly staring at her. I think my jaw hitting the floor awoke me from my trance. I could not even say thank-you, or I am honored. All I could think to say was, “I get to have my own girls.”

Looking back, I acted like an idiot. What an honor to have bestowed upon oneself. I stood there, saying and doing nothing. Would not surprise me if she changes her mind, I know I would reconsider my choice. One of my many flaws is I tend to fall apart at the most inappropriate time. I do not want her to get her affairs in order. I do not want there to be a need for her to get her affairs in order. I knew she was getting ready for the inevitable. I would never be ready.

It was time to take Ja home, only a 15-minute drive, but it seemed to just fly by. I wish there was a long way to get to her house so we could spend even one minute more together. There is only one way to her house. There is only one road between Ja’s home and mine, Highway 17.

It was a normal Monday for Ja, her usual doctors’ visits. She would have more tests done, and a few new ones. The doctors are trying to find out why she is now having seizers. The answer they are coming up with is Zollinger Ellison Syndrome.

I asked Ja, “What the heck is that?”

Her reply, “I have no idea.”

I know Ja better than that, she knows more than she is willing or able to tell me now. I can understand her not wanting to tell me until she understands the syndrome herself. Knowing Ja, she must find out everything she can before she tells anyone, and when she does decide to inform me on the information, I know she will give me the edited version.

Being as I am smart or a better word resourceful woman, I logged onto webmd.com to find out any information I could on this new diagnosis. After reading, and more reading on Zollinger, I am no closer to understanding what it all means. Maybe I am not meant to understand, I am here to help Ja get through it all, and be there for her.

I am not sure, nor is anyone else how much time she has left. I try not to think about it. I want to spend as much time with her as I can, making more memories that I will look fondly back on. I intend to be there every painstaking step with her. I hope never to let her down, as I know she would never let me down. I want her to enjoy every moment that she can. I want her to feel that’s it's ok to leave us in this mixed up world and that we will survive. I want her to know I will always be there for her girls, at anyplace at anytime. I know they will not understand their mothers’ madness for not telling them. I will have to explain she wanted them to have a normal life, not have to worry about her. She was only thinking of them. I do not agree with her madness, but I have learned to deal with it, so we don’t talk about it. There are more important things to discuss, like the new flavor of coffee at Muddy’s.

We lost touch; I am not sure what happens, Ja says that on New Year's Eve I was to go to her home to bring in the New Year. I didn’t make it. We stopped. We stopped everything. No talking, texting, no communication between best friends and I had no idea as to why this had happened to us. Best friends were always supposed to talk, laugh, and even cry together. Our moments of coffee disappeared and I had no clue as to why. I was scavenging through my brain as to why. I do not recall that I was to go there on that New Year's Eve. Nor do I to this day understand what happened.

All of a sudden out of nowhere, almost two years later I received a phone call. It was not a number that I recognized; there was no name displayed. I just answered it, something I am not in the habit of doing. On the other end was Ja. I didn’t know what to say but ask how she was. She asked if I was at work, which I was and she also asked if she could come by. There was nothing to say except yes. We started over that evening, drinking coffee, oh the good ole days, talking and catching up on what the heck was going on in each of our lives. What we had missed, and missed so much about each other. More secrets were shared as well known secrets. She had had two strokes the previous year and finally said, “Life is too short.” It was several cups of coffee later before we realized it was dawn. How time flies, but it has always been that way between us. Ja called Bill and let him know she was okay and at my house and soon to be on her way home. Just like old times again. How I missed that. I missed what Ja and I shared, without a watch, just as if time stood still. But we know it does not.

We again are going through a rough patch. I’m the one who messed this up, it was my entire fault, I will own up to this. I have disappointed Ja, hurt her and made her mad all at the same time. My apologies have not made a dent in this sad situation. I have cried through out this ordeal. When you see the disappointment in the eyes of someone you love, there is no going back from that look, and it will stay with me forever. The hurt that I have caused has changed something in me. I will be forever sorry. I have let her down, something I would never do intentionally. She is a part of me. Maybe, I hope, we can get past this; someday. Until then, I must move on with myself, somehow. Sometimes I wonder about myself, and say “Damn.”

We stopped having coffee, again. We drift through the day only speaking to be polite. We don’t look at each other in the eyes anymore. We cannot finish each other’s thoughts, we have lost that connection. Can we get that back? She does not think our friendship can survive. All I could do was cry, not the small tears, the deep from down in your soul cry. Was it really that bad? We have been through so much together with all that each of us goes through in our lives, picking ourselves up with the support of the other and continuing. I was shocked, to say the least. Yes, sometimes we say things we don’t mean when we are mad and upset. Does that mean that a friendship is over just out of disappointments and being mad? I know sometimes tempers flare and we tend to lash out, but do all those years just go to the weigh side? God, I hope not. I would miss her all over again. I would miss everything about her all over again. I don’t want another two years without her as my friend. It’s not solely up to me. I am moving into my own place next week. We have been housemates for almost six months. In those six months, our friendship has gone to almost non-existent.

We all waste way too much time on the bad and not the good, we tend to dwell on the feeling of being wronged and not the happy times. Why do the wrongs seem to out weigh all the other more important things in our lives? Is it easier to feel disappointment, anger, hurt than to feel the good? Do the goods weigh less in value? I wish I knew the reasons we do what we do, life would be simpler.

I only know I should move on, I am a survivor. No matter what life has thrown at me with both barrels, I have come back fighting. Yes, it is not always easy. Yes, sometimes I want to just throw in the towel, but that’s not me nor is it Ja. I think we can get past this, in time. Time heals all wounds. This may take longer than I want, but I should be patient and wait. I will still try to talk with her, I just have too. It is like breathing, that deep from way down breath that fills your lungs and makes you smile breathing. Those first smells of the first-morning cup of coffee feeling. You close your eyes and "breathe it all in" type of smile.

Are any of us really able to accept the death of a loved one? I say no. We don’t accept it; we just learn to deal with it. Acceptance means it’s over and done with that we are agreeing with it. I don’t want to accept that, nor could I if I knew how.

I will always have the wonderful memories that Ja and I share, along with the forever kept secrets. We will continue to make memories as long as possible. I will one day embed those memories deep down in my soul, or it could be too much to bear. I will bring them up, one at a time, so as not to overwhelm my broken heart. I will keep praying that a cure will be found. Until then I consider it an honor to be a part of her life, a part of her family as she is a part of mine, and a privilege to be her friend, her found pod pea.

friendshiplove
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About the Creator

sandra gunderson

I was born and raised in Wisconsin. My greatest joys are my two sons and my three grandchildren, which I cherish. I am prior military, I attend college full time and work full time for the Department of Defense.

Happy reading,

Sandra

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