Noella

A few weeks ago, one of my best friends from grade school died. She'd had a year long battle with cancer. We rarely saw each other. Of late, our conversations were all over text messages or the occasional comment on Facebook. I'd purchased a condolence card for her widow pretty quick. I had intended to send it with a similar speed. But it has taken me this long to think of words to say to put a button on this -- one of the longest friendships I've ever maintained. Here is what I wrote.

Dear Edie,

When I think of Noelle, there are images from all over my lifespan. From when we were children together, teens, college students, and when real life started -- newlyweds, home ownership. I remember her visiting my first house and my infant son.

As a kid, she always made me feel like a cooler person than I deserved to be. I was the class nerd and she was the rough and tumble kid -- I think from the outside, nobody understood our friendship. But for me, her choosing to be my friend was so life affirming and gave me confidence. Many of my growing up memories include her -- pushing my limits, challenging all the rules. We stole a pack of gum to hide the fact that we were drinking out back of the high school dance. I think she liked challenging me. She is so much of the person I have become. Maybe she revelled in what she could dare me to do -- surprising both herself and me with my willingness to press the boundaries.

Even now, when I the stay-home-mom, take a long hard look in the mirror, I can imagine Noelle daring me to flout the social norms. Her ready smile and that smirk while she formulated the perfect one liner to slay me and challenge me. I read through our last long texting exchange -- even then she challenged me to look at my life, look at my goals. She never stopped daring me to live bigger and fuller -- to grow.

I am so grateful for her being part of my life. She stuck it out despite considerable pressure from my mom. When we were kids, my mother was pretty terrible to Noelle. I suppose she could see all the careful groundwork to turn me into a compliant good Catholic girl jeopardized by my friendship with Noelle. Silly now, isn't it? My mother attending the services were perhaps her way of apologizing -- albeit belatedly.

For me, it is easy to pretend that Noelle is still here on this earth. That we are just slogging through another extended period of silence between us. Any minute, she'll text me out of the blue.

You had asked for stories. One of the oldest inside jokes between us was this:

I had the reputation of the super goodie goodie straight laced girl in school -- a fairly well placed reputation. Noelle's by comparison was that of the worldly well versed in street culture kid. Remember, these were the days before Google and Urban Dictionary.

One of our classmates in 8th grade had wanted to demonstrate my lack of street cred. She had a word steeped in drug culture of which she was certain I'd be ignorant -- "roach." I found out later that was the term for the butt of a joint. In front of a group of classmates I asked Noelle what a roach was. She looked at me, that knowing smirk on her face.

"You don't know what a roach is?" She shook her head in disbelief and laughed. The classmates around her laughed as well. I begged her just to tell me what it was already. She refused. Ultimately, I kinda shrugged my shoulders and walked off. I figured I'd ask my teenaged brothers who enlightened me of the definition right quick.

Years later, I recalled the incident to her.

"Oh yeah, I remember."
"Why wouldn't you just tell me what it was?"
"Because I didn't know either."

Seriously.

Perhaps we weren't as different as I had thought. Perhaps why we were such good friends was because we recognized ourselves in the other. She might not have been one of my Sacred Hearts Academy friends -- all about lipstick, perms, and the boys down the street. But she was a kindred spirit in her love of word craft and humor.

She always has and always will make me want to be a better human being.

Love, Tess