A Season of Loss

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May and June were difficult months as four significant people in my life made their transition.

• Barbara, my best friend and soul sister, on May 26.
• Bill, her devoted husband, eighteen days later on June 12.
• Alice, a mentor and angel from my youth on June 18. Alice came into my life when I was twelve. She said of me, “You were something.” How I wish I could see myself through her eyes. Because of her encouragement, I pursued a college education.
• Pastor Larry on June 30. He listened to and caught my vision for an alternative ministry working with couples. He took concrete steps to make it possible. When another colleague responded with threatening disapproval, he brushed it off as “professional jealousy.” He also gave comfort as he officiated at my son’s funeral service.

My life is infinitely richer because of these people.

A Celebration of Life

I was honored to be asked by the family to deliver a  commemoration for Barbara and Bill at their Celebration of Life. Preparing it was healing for me.

I had been grieving the loss of Barbara for close to twenty years as Alzheimer’s stole her away. I felt relieved that she was finally released from this dreadful disease.

It is still hard to believe that Bill is gone, too. Glioblastoma took him in only four short months.

I met Barbara at church in 1966. Sometime in the early 70s she approached me and said, “I want to be friends with you.” I was stunned. Barbara was prom queen beautiful. I thought she was out of my league. Little did I know what a gift she would become in my life.

Another honor for me was officiating at the renewal of Barbara and Bill’s wedding vows on their 25^th anniversary … a joyous occasion. I attended their wedding in 1975. My friendship with Barbara was in the early stages then. We have a long history together.

Anam Cara

Anam means soul and Cara means friend. In the Celtic tradition, a “soul friend” is a compassionate presence considered essential and integral to spiritual development. It’s origin can be traced back to the desert mothers and fathers … ascetics who lived a monastic life in the 4^th and 5^th centuries. Their capacity for friendship and ability to read other people’s hearts made them effective as spiritual guides. Their teachings were preserved and passed on by a Christian monk who recognized that anyone could be a soul friend.

I came to experience Barbara as a soul sister and friend. She easily expressed her love for many. She considered herself to be “kin to all.” We frequently expressed our love for each other … in words and in actions.

Because she sought me out, I felt valued in her presence. We took as much interest in listening to each other as in sharing our own heart, mind, and soul. I so appreciated this safe space for feeling heard and understood. It seemed a gift from the beyond.

With nothing superficial in our relationship, we developed a deep connection. Every moment with Barbara was quality time. I trusted her completely.

Our Process of Becoming Soul Sisters

One characteristic of soul friends is their ability to speak their minds … express fears, anxieties, dreams … to be honest even when it is uncomfortable.

Early in our relationship, Barbara and I bonded through our wounds. Unbeknownst to us, our behavior was quite dysfunctional.

In 1982, after my family and I moved to another community a half-hour away, we met occasionally for dinner half-way between at The Dayton Mall. These turned into opportunities to air our grievances with our husbands. We got pretty good at raking them over the coals. 

In September 1985, I entered a Living-in-Process training program. Trainees were required to identify our addictive process and work a 12-Step program of recovery. I identified mine as co-dependency (I am an adult grandchild of a raging alcoholic) and began attending 12-Step meetings.

Barbara and I met for dinner again. Soon she launched into complaints about Bill. As a conflict avoider, I squirmed. I valued Barbara as a dear friend and didn’t want to lose her. However, I needed to be honest with her about my new awareness.

The potential for an end to our relationship loomed. My family hadn’t banished me, but no one understood. They were quite uncomfortable with my new direction and discouraged me from continuing. However, I took what I was learning in my training program very seriously.

I launched in.  “Barbara, I can’t do this anymore. I’ve learned this is co-dependent and I’ve started going to 12-Step meetings to change my behavior.”

“Tell Me More”

With an intense look of curiosity on her face, she said, “Tell me more.”

In that moment I knew in my bones she was my soul sister. 

After listening to my passion for what I was learning … about myself as well as about co-dependence … she proclaimed, “I’m co-dependent, too. I’m going to start going to meetings.”

We solidified our commitment to supporting each other’s growth, especially our spiritual growth. It was wonderful to have a friend who “got me.”

Eventually, Barbara entered that same training program. Over time our conversations and our bond deepened and grew healthier.

We didn’t always follow the same path.

I graduated seminary … She graduated from The Institute of Culture & Creation Spirituality

I became an addiction’s family and relationship therapist … She became a Reiki Master

But we maintained a genuine interest in and were supportive of the paths on which we each embarked. They enriched our relationship.

Her Spirit Survived

It was a huge loss for me when Alzheimer’s began stealing Barbara away almost twenty years ago. In 2014, Bill moved the two of them to Portland, Oregon to be near his children. I visited in the spring of 2015.

I don’t know if Barbara knew me or not. She had wonderful social skills and could often hide from others what was happening to her. She did know that I was someone who loved her. And she hadn’t lost her ability to express her love for me. She told me many times during that trip that she loved me.

When Alzheimer’s created anxiety and she responded with agitation, I was able to calm her. One such precious memory is my calling her into the living room where Lawrence Welk music filled the air. We danced and sang, swirling in our stocking feet. The look of joy on her face was pure delight.

Even when Alzheimer’s robbed her of her words, Barbara’s spirit shined forth through her singing. The last time her step-son saw her, with only days before she made her transition, she was sitting in a hospital bed singing. Her doctor told her daughter what a delight it was to work with her.

There are some who bring a light so great to the world, that even after they have gone, the light remains.

Verse on Barbara and Bill’s memorial card