Life
Life
Pen pal sisterhood
By Joyce McClure
Manila – Stories about goodbyes are hard to read . Chats and exchanges about death , dying , leaving and being left behind are conversations that we are not always ready to have .
However , as much as we try to evade the topic of death and loss , and how they create an impact on us who are still living and lingering , we face the truth that life is often full of sudden goodbyes ; and with these , we are never prepared .
A recent get-together with friends put us in a mode of missing and yearning for our mutual friends who have passed . We remembered the day that our hearts were broken with their passing , and the day we went to their wake and cried more as we stared at them for the last time . We were never the same since then .
There is never a year that does not end without goodbyes . This year is no different . A friend and colleague I have not seen in over two decades , except for a few glimpses here and there on social media , was the most recent and hopefully the last one as the year ends .
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There is never a year that does not end without goodbyes . This year is no different .
My last sight of her was when we were in our mid-20s , already working as journalists in the 1990s as we transitioned from typewriters to computers and from beepers to cellphones . Cool , stylish and buoyant , she puffed her cigarette every time she got up from her computer , but ticked away her cig to get back to her writing when an idea popped up .
At that time when I was still trying to find my voice , she already found hers . She was brave and outspoken . She was one of the people I wanted to be when I grew up . But as typical girls in our 20s , we had similar lives . We engaged in downbeat self-talk and allowed ourselves to get messed up even as we were hoping to live our great futures . We tried to figure out what to do with our lives even as we ran around in circles .
I saw the news of her passing through a friend ’ s social media post . Information from mutual friends said she had cancer and was in hospice care in the last few weeks . What shattered me was when I saw a photo shared by other friends of her looking skinny and unrecognizable . She was no longer the image of the carefree and chic girl I admired more than two decades ago . But that image of her is what I will forever remember her by .
With no chance to say goodbye as she was far away and I lost track of her , I was crushed by the idea of how death could put a stop to our shared memories . In a strange way , the day of her passing was the day I thought about her . I was grateful that at some point in our lives , we shared the same world .
I have never been good at goodbyes and I try but often fail to escape situations when I have to part ways with someone . My only consolation is that I thrive , and will continue to do so , in friendships and relationships that give me the strength and a bit of ease to say goodbye .
Diana Mendoza is a journalist based in Manila . Send feedback to soltera2040 @ gmail . com
Charlottesville , VA – As I sit down to write this column today , it is Thanksgiving Day with a month of celebrations to come . I add my gratefulness on this day of thanks to that of my friends for our friendships , many of which have spread across 30 , 40 , 50 or more years .
One of them I have known for nearly 70 years . To this day we call each other by our mutual childhood nickname , “ Sister .” As family nicknames , Sister and Brother are southern in origin although my friend was born and raised in Maine , and I was born in Kansas with long-ago roots in Kentucky .
Sister and I met when I was eight and she was nine . My family was living in Corpus Christi , Texas back then where my father was the city manager . We had driven to New Hampshire for a conference that he was attending and , on the way back , we passed signs for a small family amusement park called Santa ’ s Village . Still in existence today under the management of the third generation , the park opened in 1953 , two years before our fateful meeting .
Actually , we did not meet that day . Rather , holding our mother ’ s hands , we approached Santa ’ s house and stood in line waiting to sign Santa ’ s guest book . As my mother and I left , Sister and her mother were next to sign her name . Looking at my address , her mother said , “ Look , this little girl is from all the way down in south Texas and you ’ re from all the way up in Maine . You ’ ve been wanting a pen pal , why don ’ t you write to her ?”
Dated Nov . 6 , 1955 , the neatly handwritten letter arrived in the mail when we got back from our road trip to New Hampshire . I wrote back immediately ,