Googling Ginger

Dear Ginger,

I just learned about your death today, even though you've been gone for more than a year. Now that I am nearing the end of my government career, I spend quite a bit of time daydreaming about the possibility of opening up a small part time private counseling practice after I retire. Today I thought about the psychotherapy practice you started after we finished graduate school. I decided to "Google" you to look for information about your work on the internet. But when your name popped up with a link to Legacy.com, I realized at once that you were gone.

I was already familiar with the Legacy.com website. My sister's obituary was posted there after she died in December, 2007. Your passing was almost a year to the day after hers. I'm sure you recall meeting Carolyn when she came to Gainesville for Christmas one year. I have old photos of us celebrating the holiday at your place. You and my big sister were a lot alike in some ways.

You and I became fast friends after we met as graduate students in Psychology. We took all of the same classes. I remember late night study sessions at Perkins Pancake House, and the two of us as 30-something divorced gals, sipping wine at Friday evening happy hour in a local night club, hoping to meet some handsome eligible guys. I learned how to read Tarot cards from you. I can still see us sitting cross-legged on the living room carpet in your condo so many times, seeking spiritual guidance and insight from your Rider-Waite deck. Those were happy times for me, and I valued our friendship. I remember riding to St. Augustine Beach in your old Mustang, our hair blowing wildly in the wind because it didn't have an air conditioner, and stopping at the Dairy Queen to cool off with a dipped cone. You loved having fun.

I saw you for the last time about ten years ago, on a Saturday afternoon before Easter. You waved to me from across the sidewalk at Thornebrook Village shopping center. You were heading into the chocolate shop, apparently to buy some Easter treats for friends. You were always generous and loved giving gifts. One of our professors once said that you possessed personality traits that tend to be pleasing to people. You were deeply touched by his remark. Two of the gifts you gave me are still among my favorite pieces of art and have hung on the walls of my home for many years. You brought them back from a summer vacation you took to visit your sister Joy in Colombia.

I waved back at you that afternoon, and you came over to the table where my friend Glenda and I were having lunch at an outdoor cafe. I introduced the two of you, and you sat down at our table to chat. That's when you told me about your private practice. You handed me your business card, and we told each other we would keep in touch. You were reaching out, and had moved beyond the anger and pain that had ended our friendship. I wanted to put up a protective wall and keep you at arm's length, even though years had passed, and not risk being hurt again. I hadn't yet learned never to throw anyone away. I sent you a Christmas card the following year, and you didn't respond. I never followed up.

Both you and my sister could push my buttons and wound the vulnerable place in my soul deeply beyond all my strength to cope. I don't even remember what our quarrel was about that hurt me so badly I didn't feel that I could continue being your friend, even though I had been in touch with you almost every day for over two years. Pressures were mounting as we neared the completion of our masters program, and maybe we took our stresses and strains out on each other. Maybe there was more to it than that. You left a message on my answering machine at the end of our last semester, congratulating the both of us on passing our comprehensive exams. We hadn't spoken in a couple of months. You were reaching out, but I was sensitive and my heart just hurt too much to reach back. I didn't return your call.

I am sorry that I didn't reconnect with you. You're a beautiful soul. I'd like to be friends with you again in some future lifetime. I learned that you'd had at least one other troubled friendship. Another therapist in the local mental health community told me in 2006 that you and she had broken off communication after a tumultous time, and were no longer in touch with one another. I realized then that the problem between us wasn't all me.

I read on Legacy.com that you died of cancer at the York Hospice House. I hope it was a good death, in that beautiful hospice center, free from suffering, surrounded by loved ones and caring people to ease your transition into the next life. I remembered your abnormal Pap smear, and I vaguely recall something about a spot on your chest x-ray that was diagnosed as a benign nodule at the time. When I read your obit today, I wondered if the seeds of the cancer that took you were already planted way back when. I think we knew each other well on some some levels, yet still remained strangers to one another in other ways. I learned a lot from you, Ginger girl. Especially today. You just taught me the paramount importance of healing broken friendships while there is still time. I thank you for that lesson, my dear.