...And you're gonna live forever in me
I guarantee, it's your destiny
Mark drove me to Orem to see my dear friend for the last time.
It was a small service held at a church. Five of her kids stood and shared a few stories. First thought I had was "I can't believe how much I learned from her on this mommy stuff". I found that the stories could have each been told by MY kids. This made me smile.
Then, I reflected how a lifetime, HER lifetime, could be summed up in a few short sentences.
I miss my Beckie. Let me make sure you understand - I MISS MY BECKIE.
Beckie believed in me. She celebrated the good and mourned the bad. When hurricanes struck while I lived in Virginia, it was Beckie who called to check on me.
Beckie could sew. I mean that lady could sew. She knew her fabric and how to handle each.
Many, many, MANY times I enlisted her expertise to sew what I needed. When I was pregnant with Tanna, I became pretty desperate for maternity clothes to cover my expanding belly. I asked Beck to make me some cute overalls.
Before long, the mailman brought a slip stating that I had a package at the Post Office. I was so excited. I got the kids ready and walked to the Post Office in Ojai. I was clutching that slip.
The Post Office was by a park. I handed over the sweaty, wrinkled sheet; grabbed the package; thanked the postal worker; gathered the kids and went to the park. I held the package, return address from Beckie, unopened.
While the kids played, I sat in the warm grass and opened my handmade maternity clothes. I was super excited. Imagine my surprise when the clothes weren't there. In their place was the cutest fabric bear with matching basket, a wall quilt and a VERY silky, long black nighty. I was stunned.
"I just wanted to do something special for you."
Those were the words I heard when I called my friend to thank her.
Beckie was not gifted with an easy life. It seems she learned struggle and sadness and loneliness and grief at an early age. I'm not sure that she ever knew how wonderful she truly was. She was, you know. Wonderful.
She developed dementia. However, she kept her humor and, at times, I still bore witness to the twinkle in her eyes and the lightness in her step.
When her oldest boy, André, messaged to let me know that Beckie was not in a good place and we were probably going to lose her, I hit my knees.
Afterglow was released by Sarah McLachian in 2003. The song Answer plays from my iPod. Man, I love this song.
I will be the answer at the end of the line
I will be there for you while you take the time
In the burning of uncertainty I will be your solid ground
I will hold the balance if you can't look down
If it takes my whole life I won't break I won't bend
It'll all be worth it worth it in the end
'Cause I can only tell you what I know
That I need you in my life
When the stars have all gone out
You'll still be burning so bright.
Cast me gently into morning
For the night has been unkind
Take me to a place so holy
That I can wash this from my mind
The memory of choosing not to fight
From that moment, this song has played over and over in my mind. Let's be honest, it still plays for me.
I miss my Beckie. I miss the long talks. I miss her smile. Her laughter. Her humor.
I miss the light in her eyes.
I long for her hugs.
She offered sturdy, unfailing friendship. She changed my life.
What I would give to have my friend whole; to hold her hand one more minute. I would whisper "It'll all be worth it, worth it in the end."
Beckie, I hope, NO I PRAY with all my might, that you were cast gently into morning, for I know your night was unkind.
Rebecca (Eldridge) Hoyt
July 03, 1957 - March 19, 2019
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