Good Night, Dear Friend

I looked at the return address on the envelope and smiled as I opened it.  I hadn't gotten a card from Sue this Christmas and it wasn't like her to forget.

Sue and I met nearly twenty years ago, when her husband was transferred to my city.  Both Sue and I were romance novelists, working hard to raise our children (she had one and I had two), be the perfect wives, maintain friendships and do the thing we loved best: write.

It was the love of writing that drew us together initially.  There are very few people you can talk to about the craft without their eyes glazing over, so over time you learn not to speak of it at all.  But being able to unleash your emotions with someone who loves writing with the same passion you do - well, that's a rare gift.

Our husbands didn't particularly get along, so we didn't socialize at night.  It was really just Sue and me.  Some afternoons, when the children were in school, we would pop some corn and watch the BBC version of Pride and Prejudice for the sixth time.  It didn't matter that we could say the dialog along with the characters; we still cried in the same places.

Sue had this great guffaw of a laugh that made you laugh with her whether you wanted to or not; it was an involuntary response.

And then one day her husband got transferred to Fort Wayne, Indiana.  We kept in touch, but it wasn't the same.  I was always happy to see her at conferences and we spent every moment together we could.  I visited her at her home. 

I missed her every day and cherished every phone call and letter.

So here was a card.  Better late than never.

My smile faded after the first few words.  The card wasn't from my friend Sue, but from her husband.  Sue had died over the holidays from a massive heart attack.

I couldn't take it in.  This joyful, gregarious woman was gone from the world in the blink of an eye.  No more doting on that only son she adored, or the new grandchild she wanted to help mold into a remarkable little person.  No more stolen glances at that soul mate husband of hers.  No more phone calls asking me how the hell I was doing and then hearing that great laugh.

Oh, Sue, I'm so sorry.  Good night, dear friend.