On November 13th, I received an email from my friend Lindsay, which told me how she got my call but that she was really not feeling well and things aren't going well for her at all. She wasn't in the mood to really talk about it or write about it.

"All I have to say is--you are so lucky that things went smoothly for you. I would give anything to be in your shoes. I will try to give you a call back when I am feeling better or when I actually have good news."

I cried over this email for about an hour. I was sad that she was not feeling well, sad that talking to me wouldn’t make her feel better. I knew she was dying and I wanted to help her, but I wasn’t sure how I could. So I went to the store and stocked up on DVDs, an angora hat, Skittles lip gloss, a care bear canteen & key chain, a book on tape, a quick read that I really enjoyed, some other stuff that I’m forgetting right now. I packed up a box and sent it out. A week before she died, Lindsay sent me a Thank You note that she’d call when she was in better spirits. Seeing as how this box cheered her up, I went out and bough a bunch of new stuff—Christmas pajamas, fun tee-shirts, a conch shell that I had from my trip to Key West. I was waiting for a box of makeup from my friend Karen, so I didn’t get a chance to send the box out yet. It’s sitting on my windowsill. I guess in retrospect it’s a blessing that I didn’t get a chance to send it out. Because that would’ve been awkward for her parents to receive; but it also sits there and makes me feel sad and angry and guilty. Sad that she’s gone; angry that she’s gone and guilty that that box represented my efforts to make not just her feel better—but myself feel better. It was selfish really. Sending those gifts made me feel less like I couldn’t do anything and more that I was a good friend. It was as much for her as it was for me, prompted by that email that I was “lucky that things went smoothly for {me}.” When in fact they did. I’m here. I can write this all down. I am still alive to feel guilty about it all.

It also makes me cry that she probably felt so alone. I know that a lot of her friends had dropped out of her life. We make excuses for people, talking about how hard it is to be around people that are sick and we’re asked to forgive them. I call bullshit. I do not care how busy you are or how hard it is to be around a sick person, you just do it. A lot of this girl’s friends just stopped calling. And at the end, because I had gotten better, she probably found it hard to talk to me. And I mean, god, how is that fair? You don’t get to say you’re sorry when the person is gone. And she was so sweet and I know she didn’t tell her friends how they made her feel. She didn’t get a chance to stop and say, “You know, I really need you at this point in my life.” And we all do it. We all forget and we figure we have time to make it up. A year later attempts to visit do not make up for the fact that when that person was sick, and alone, and scared that we weren’t there. It makes me so angry. Especially at this time of year. Look, we are human and when horrible things happen, you know what, we’re not going to stop worrying about our hair, our weight, work, or any of that petty stuff. It’s always going to be there and it doesn’t make us any less of people because it upsets us. It’s life. But it really is time to appreciate the people in our lives. And to appreciate the value of life. To stop wasting it on past hurts and realize that there are so many people out there that need us. By being in a holding pattern and dwelling on loss, we forget those that are out there now, and we become skeletons of our formal selves. Maybe I did everything I could—I called, I emailed, I sent gifts, I attempted to visit (usually thwarted by a medical emergency) and maybe I didn’t, I probably could’ve listened more, complained less, just been a better friend. Maybe I will never get over the thought that my friend died questioning: “why this had to happen? And why are all those people who didn’t even call me on a regular basis going to be crying over me now?”

Why does it always take a person to be gone before we celebrate their life? Why do we always think that tomorrow is the day we’ll get the time? Who are we kidding? There will never be enough time, but there are always those seconds that it takes to jot down a quick “hey there.” I know I’ve ranted on this before, but it’s one of those things that I think I can never get through enough, even to myself.

So in honor of my friend, I want everyone that reads this to send out a note to everyone that they consider as their friend. Not a mass email—individual notes that say hi, how are you and what have you been up to. Send a regular card, or a holiday card with a personalized note. If you’re peeps don’t have email, then call while you’re commuting or if you have five minutes at your desk. If you have to leave a message, hey that counts too. If you can get everyone together not for someone’s birthday or the holidays but just because. I’m donating the gifts that I got for her to the hospital; not just the cancer unit but if there’s anyone there that’s in that “in-between” age because they often get left out. Usually there are tons of gifts for kids but everyone older gets a bit shafted. Let’s make sure that as many people as we can don’t feel alone because those extra five minutes might mean the world to someone who’s searching for a reason to face the day.