How Do You Process It . . . ?

. . .when you find out that your oldest and dearest friend died in her sleep on the morning after you come back from a weekend of camping fun with other friends?

Two Sundays ago, that's just what happened. My friend Rose died in her sleep at the age of 49. I'm in a daze and I don't know if it's sunk in. Yes. I went to her family's rosary for her the evening after they found her dead in her bed. Surreal, altough very real, as I helplessly watched her three children cry with pain for their mother. Marie the oldest, who was 5 when I first met her now has 3 of her own was the one who seemed like she couldn't handle her mother's death at all. Jessica was born two months after my oldest son was born. To me, she's still a baby at 23. Bt she too has a son. And she was there, on the floor, wearing her mother's watch trying to hold on to anything...anything. And then Rose's youngest at 16, John was trying to be strong because "I have to take care of my sisters now" he whispered to me. It tore me asunder to watch them fall apart in front of their mother's picture.

Rose and I "grew" up together. We had babies together and saw each other through rough waters with men. As time went on, we headed our separate paths. She got sick and I got sick. She had diabetes and I had cancer. Neither of us wanted to let the other know that we were each were very sick. In March, Rose and her daughter Jessica attended my daughter's 21st birthday dinner. I was glad to see her after all these years. She was glad to see me. In two minutees, we were thick as thieves again, comparing notes (with a lot of that old humor) about our maladies. Just like the good old days. Like we never missed a beat.

When she was hugging me good bye, she looked at me intently and said "Never again, C. Let's not let time pass this long before seeing each other again." I agreed. That was the last time I saw her.

I've been trying to process this for the past two weeks. I've been trying to forget. I've been hoping to wake up one day and find out it was just a dream. I just don't want it to be true. It just doesn't seem right. I survived her. All her older siblings survived her. She was so young. She was so needed. She was so loved.

I should be very sad. Or very angry. But I don't know how to feel.

Many times, I"m sad. Very sad.

I don't understand.

It's just not fair.