October 2009 Archives

Occasionally Lark Lennox has posted here and she sent this to us here at Living in a Perfect World.

I met my pal Joey at an all-girls camp when we were 11. Our friendship spanned four decades (with a few gaps). When we reconnected, it was as if we'd never been apart. We spent 8 weeks together every summer, and Christmas and Easter vacations together in between. Eventually, we even went to college together.

We lost contact a few times but we were always "best friends."

I always thought that as long as her name was in my address book, she was within reach. (Yes, that's a lot clumsier than James Taylor's lyric, "I always thought that I'd see you again," but that's what I believed.)

It doesn't work that way. Joey died in 2007.

This is the letter that I wrote to her mother.

Dear Gloria,

I hope that you are well and that this letter doesn't cause more harm than good.

I just learned about Joey a few days ago, and even though it's been such a long time, I needed to write to tell you how very, very sorry I am.

Joey and I sometimes went long stretches without being in touch, but when we'd get together again, it always felt like the old days of being best friends.

She gave me a huge amount of love and support during very difficult times, helping me deal with my runaway 16-year-old daughter, the end of my marriage and other challenges.

I knew she had a series of problems associated with her illness. When she stopped answering my emails and returning my calls, I convinced myself that my issues were just too draining for her to deal with. I didn't want to contribute to her stress. I always believed that when she was feeling stronger, we'd be back in each other's lives full-time. I am so sorry that I wasn't there for her or to give you some measure of support.

Over the past few days, I've been retrieving memories of times with Joey. I've been lucky to have a number of friends who counseled and comforted me during hard times--and your daughter was always one of them--but more importantly, I realized that the absolute best, silliest, most fun times of my life were spent with her as well. Over the years, we spent a lot of time being goofy and laughing uncontrollably. (Once, when we were about 16, my mother accused us of being "on drugs" because we were laughing so hard. That just made us laugh harder.)

Our last summer at Camp K, Joey and I had matching "footie" pajamas. We'd perform "Little Bunny Foo-Foo" for our bunkmates. It was silly enough at 15, but we actually reprised the roles for friends when we were in college.

I know that we could be a handful for our counselors and parents. It's hard for me to apologize with a completely straight face, but I do hope we didn't cause too much trouble. (When counselors told us that we were rotten to the core, rats and finks, we made up our little "Rat Cheer" to celebrate the frustration we caused. "Rats to the end, Rotten to the core, Finks alllll the way through..." We did the cheer whenever we got together, even as adults. It always ended with hysterical laughter and a big hug.)

My parents loved Joey, too. Even when he became very forgetful in later years, my father often remembered her and asked what she was up to. I guess we hadn't annoyed him too much, because he always smiled and chuckled at the mention of her name, saying "She's quite a character."

My daughter went to Camp K for several summers. She loved hearing about our escapades and, much to my chagrin, she tried to recreate some of them when she was a camper. I drove her to and from camp each year--and I loved recapturing that feeling of joy that Joey and I shared at camp. (I know we sometimes acted as if we thought we were prisoners, but the kvetching was a sham. We had a blast.)

I always called Joey when I returned from those trips so I could share the experience with her. Inevitably, the conversation would turn to, "Remember when we...?" and we'd retrieve more memories of great times together.

I loved your daughter and I had more fun with her than with anyone else on the planet. Thank you for making her for me. Thank you for sharing her with me.

Love,
Poppy

Thank you to Lark Lennox for her precious memories and pain-filled sharing of love and friendship.

We are complex. We are in a constant staet of evolution and we need to be patient with ourselves as well as with each other. Let us love one another and accept each other -- not only for the good qualities but for all of our flaws. We have been divided for the sake of union and for far too long. Let's all do our best to find our way back together. Isn't that what true religion is all about? This is what I believe basically and it will evolve with each new experience. As I said before, I'm not truly sure where I am going, but I am confident I am making progress. I can't tell you what to think but I hope that you will see this essay for what it is. It was meant to inspire you to find your truth. Your truth exists. It waits for you to seek it out in the only place it could possibly abide.... your heart " Some will lead, and some will follow." " In the end, I hope and pray that we can all find a common ground to build upon a new and brighter world for our children" I hope that you enjoyed reading this passage as much as I enjoyed writing it. Good luck.

We are judged, by others, in accordance with our acctions in this world. I have taken the lives of two women by drinking and driving. I know how this makes me look but there are things about me that no one knows. I have saved more than one life in my time on this planet as well. I once carried a pregnant woman having a seizure through a rain storm to a waiting ambulance four blocks away. I don't think there was a reason for me doing this other than she needed my help. I did not know this woman or her husband. I once pulled a man from a burning vehicle that he had flipped over in a rainstorm. I didn't think about my own safety. All I knew was that he needed my help. I did not know this man. When I was 17 years old, I saw an old man fall and hit his head. Ihe was bleeding terribly. While everyone else stood there and did nothing, I pulled off my shirt and stopped the bleeding. When the ambulence arrived, I disappeared. i did not know this man. All I knew was that he needed my help. In all three instances, I acted out of compassion. I did not stick around to receive thanks or a pat on the back. Knowing that I had done what I could was enough for me. These are some of the things that very few people know about me. yes, I have made mistakes in my life, one huge one in particular. I deserve to be judged by the whole of my existence in this place and that judgement should not come from your or anyone else. you are not worthy because we have all made mistakes. Trust me on this, I have judge myself more harshly than you or anyone else. In making this judgement, I have considered all the facts and I have decided I am forgiven. This one moment of ignorance does not define who I am. My ife is worth so much more than that and there is more more to live.

Memories of days past, days when we were either too ignorant or too blind to see the blessing that would soon slip through our fingers. Days when we follishly squandered any hope for real and lasting happiness that we may have posessed. Days when we cared more for our own selfish concerns than that of the woman we loved. A Day of adolesence when I broke the heart of the only one who ever truly cared for me. O, how I long for the return of such days. Oh how I long to have a change to right those wrongs that I committed so many years ago., but that sadly and so completely is where such intentions will have to end.

Falling short of redemption seems to be what I am destined to amount to. yet my unfinished intent is not because of a lack of desire. It is beacause I am not worthy of your forgiveness and understanding. It is because my sense of remorse is only another mask- a mask that covers selfish concerns concealed deep withing. And no matter how well these concerns are disguised, even from my own eyes, they are still selfish. So as it is, such a dream of restoring your respect and love is far beyond reach. But one is still entitled to their dreams no matter how unreachable they may be. Until such a day of complete grace, I will remain trapped beneath the torpid waves of my aching heart, not breathing but asleep. not dead, but dreaming-- dreaming of days past, dreaming of you.

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