Friends and Family

Year three of our annual motorcycle trip to the Yellowstone area has come and gone and I can’t believe it’s already over. The first year I didn’t know what to expect and ended up loving everything about the trip. The second year I knew what to expect and was even more excited to go. This year I’ve been eagerly anticipating our trip almost since the day we returned home last year. I’ve yearned for it, first counting the months, then weeks, and finally the days before we hit the highway.

Our group numbered ten this year and for the first time in three years I finally had a female partner in crime to share the fun with. Five of the ten have made the journey all three years, a few have made it one or two times, and there were two newbies joining for the first time. 

Besides all the fun and laughter, every year I’ve taken away something different and very personal from this trip and this year was no different. Having solitary time on the back of a motorcycle, alone with my thoughts, surrounded by beautiful scenery, naturally leads me to thinking about many of my thoughts and emotions. I realized that it's very rare that I'm able to be completely quiet inside myself, away from all the stress and obligations of everyday life, just reflecting on my life. 

What struck me this year was how close a group of such different personalities and backgrounds can become. Tight bonds are formed that last well beyond our short vacation. This year, like last year, we rented a large house that we all stayed in together. At dinner time on the second night we were all gathered around a huge dining table eating our spaghetti dinner, when someone commented that they felt like they were at a family Thanksgiving. Someone else said, "This is better than my last Thanksgiving when I was alone with some store bought chicken and potatoes." Of course we all laughed and kidded him, but someone also said something to the effect of  "Well, we're your family, so it should feel like a family dinner." 

The day before someone mentioned how great it was that we were all together as friends, people that we'd chosen to spend time with because of the positive things we bring to each other's lives. We don't choose our families, and some in the group have less than ideal family dynamics, but we do choose our friends and our friends can be our family too. 

I realized that on some level that's why this trip, and this group of people, have become so important to me. They feel like my family. I've always loved big family gatherings--having everyone together under one roof, late nights spent talking, laughing and goofing around, leisurely mornings in pajamas drinking coffee while planning the day, and laughter filled dinners at a big table surrounded by people I love. 

I do, of course, have a large loving family of my own, but our family gatherings just aren't the same anymore. For one thing, there have been very few of them in the last three years. The last time we were all together under one roof was the week after Julie died. I don't think any of us would have survived that week if we hadn't been together. Little did I realize how much things would change after that. My mom said recently that Julie was our family lynch pin. A lynch pin is something that holds the various elements of a complicated structure together. That was Julie. Now that she's gone our family structure seems to be in a free fall. We're lost without her. When we are together, as Edna St. Vincent Millay said, "The presence of that absence is everywhere." In her absence we just don't get together that much anymore.

During our trip I laughed until my stomach hurt and there were tears streaming down my cheeks. There were long days and late nights filled with fun, but also talking about more serious things with people we all trust with each other's feelings. There were even some disagreements and squabbles, but they were all quickly put to rest with sincere acknowledgements of one anther's feelings and opinions with apologies when needed. I was surrounded by people that Mike calls "lifers", friends that are there for life, through thick and thin. The connection remains strong whether we see each other once a year or once a week, just like family. 

I guess my soul has been searching for a way to replace what I feel I've lost. I need those large family gatherings filled with silliness, laughter, closeness, support and love. When I got on the back of our motorcycle and hit the open highway, besides a vacation I was also seeking some peace and solace from my unconscious longing for connection. Lucky for me, I found all that and more. 

The Gift of Friendship

Aimee and I in Bangladesh, choosing our future vacation cottage.

Yesterday I received an early birthday present, probably one of the best I've received--a check for $3,500.00 for the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention (AFSP). The company my best friend Aimee works for decided that instead of giving client gifts at the end of 2012, they would instead donate the amount of money they would have spent on gifts to three different nonprofit agencies, one of which was AFSP.

Three years ago this month, Aimee and another girlfriend joined me  for a weekend in Colorado to celebrate my 40th birthday along with my sisters and friends there. It was an amazing weekend, full of laughter, fun, dancing, celebrating and silliness, and only a little bit of drama. At that time I thought that weekend was the greatest gift ever. Never in our wildest dreams would any of us have thought that three short years later I'd be accepting a check in honor of Julie, to be used in support of efforts to prevent suicide. It all made me think about gifts, and friends, and gratitude, especially my own. I'm so lucky to have Aimee for a friend.

My 40th Birthday Weekend in Colorado

When we first met each other over ten years ago, friendship didn't seem likely. We'd both joined the Junior League within months of each other. A short time later, we ended up working together on the League's annual Casino Night fundraiser, me as the chairperson and Aimee as my co-chair. Like soldiers who bond over shared trauma, we bonded over the often stressful experience of being unexpectedly put in charge of the League's signature event. We logged many hours together in person, over the phone, and working collaboratively via email and found that we complemented each other perfectly. A friendship was formed. 

During our years together as active Junior League members we logged hundreds, if not thousands of  volunteer hours together, working side-by-side on League sponsored community projects and during two terms as League board members. Most of the time we worked in less than ideal conditions, hot, sweaty, tired, on our feet for hours. None of that mattered though, as we'd keep each other motivated by laughing, joking and talking.

Keeping it real during breaks from working at the
Junior League's Children's Health Connection.

Gradually, our friendship deepened. Aimee even acquired a nickname, Gygi (short for Glitter Girl, another nickname) to lessen confusion due to my sister also being named Amy. She was there during the breakdown of my last marriage, my divorce, and the ensuing craziness of my early single years. She was the person I called when I didn't know what to do and wondered if ending my marriage was the right thing. She listened to my troubles for hours. She was there when I ventured out into the dating world, supportive, and always willing to help me lose a male admirer turned borderline stalker, and then laugh with me about it afterwards. She never judged me for my horrible dating choices, and always agreed with me after, when I'd wonder what on earth I'd been thinking!

We've shared the ups and downs of parenting, being full-time working moms, and juggling husbands, housework and volunteer jobs. She's been my workout partner and together we decided to give running a try. We ran our first 5k together. We pushed, encouraged and challenged each other to meet our goals of running our first 1/2 marathon, which we each did a year apart. While training for a 1/2 marathon after Julie's death, she kept me going when my motivation lagged. I kept training, knowing she was counting on me as she was then training for her first 1/2. We've now finished two half marathons together. 

Finishing the 2011 Ogden 1/2 Marathon.

We've also been there for each other during the hard times. We've cried together, and shared our innermost fears, feelings and frustrations. Aimee taught me so much about grief and moving on, long before I ever knew I'd need those lessons. She too knows loss, and the horrible trauma of losing a cherished loved one too soon. When Julie died, Aimee was the first person I called outside of my family. She's been there for me for the happy times, but more importantly, for my darkest times. She's held me in her arms while I cried and questioned, and listened to me for countless hours as I've dealt with the aftermath of Julie's suicide.

Together, we've traveled to other cities, across the country and across the world. Without her, I would never have had the courage to travel to Bangladesh. We've danced, laughed, played, worked, run, and cried our way through the last decade. We know each other's weak spots, faults, and life moments and choices we regret. Each of us knows how the other one likes their coffee, and our cocktail of choice. Even during the most stressful of times, we always end up making each other laugh. I know that no matter the occasion or dress code, Aimee will almost always show up in a cardigan. She knows that I have absolutely no rhythm and can't dance, but gets out and tears it up on the dance floor with me anyway. Even when we disagree, and we do, we accept each other. Most importantly, she understands my loss, my grief, the great gaping hole that was left when Julie died. Yesterday I was reminded of that, and how lucky I am for the gift of her friendship. Thanks for being you Gygi! Love you.