I envision myself pushing off from a wooden dock in a one-person sail boat. I lift the sail within seconds. Flapping wildly, it waits for the wind to grab hold. I turn the rudder, oh so gently and there it is. A loud whoosh as the sail captures the wind. Now all full of its self and bursting to be free – I’m off!
The weather is perfect, the sun in my face, I head out to sea. Gazing into the horizon, I wonder where the wind will take me and who will I encounter? Then anxiety overtakes me. You see, I am not used to sailing alone. In fact, I am not used to doing much of anything alone.
Kathy and I shared the same womb, were born minutes apart, slept in the same crib, and grew up as if we were one. Inseparable – not even going to bed without the other, I never knew aloneness. Together we swung on our backyard swing, romped in our woods, swam in our river and built snowmen in the winter. We knew no sorrow; we dwelt in bliss. Like Don William’s lyrics from “I’m Just a Country Boy.” We had, “…. silver in the stars. And gold in the mornin’ sun.” And then, one morning, the sun did not rise. And the gold turned to dust.
I will return to the story of my journey in future posts. Suffice it to say that I’m with my sixth friend now. If you have read Nine Friends– you will know her name. Her friendship is a milestone in my process of grief. Without her, I could not have launched my little boat, which is my website. Nor would I have started this blog.
For those of you just beginning your journey of grief – your sixth friend is a long time coming. There is no short cut, no alternative path, no bypassing– or, finding some back door or hidden passage. The simple reality is that until the first five friends have come and gone it will be impossible for your sixth friend to find you.
I wish it was not so, but there is just no way that any of us can prepare for the first four friends. They are beyond horrible. I am so sorry that we have to deal with them at all. But we do. Even after they stop living with us, they will hang around on our porches, no doubt, forever! The somewhat good news is that you will get used to them – for after a while they are no longer horrible. In fact, as time passes you will view them as they truly are; faithful friends that support us through this life journey. No longer scary, we now know they are essential to the healing process. Indeed, you may even find yourself inviting them back in from time to time—but not to stay long.
Now, the good news! The sixth friend is worth suffering the others for. To understand how this all works… is why I wrote Nine Friends and why I started this blog. It is why I am here.
Whatever life’s sadness has brought you, it is my hope you will find the support you need while we all wait for the blessed arrival of our ninth friend.
So, again, welcome to the site! Please tell me why you are here. What has happened to you that brought you to Nine Friends?
Kathy Wolf
28 May 2018Wonderful, Jeannie. It’s inspirational for me even to read your blog this morning! I have been working with a life coach whose mission is to help me find joy in life for the remainder of my days. (That difficult to reach 9th friend). Now I’ve decided to buy a bunch of your books to give her to distribute to people who need help. I know your Nine Friends saved my life. Really. That’s not a metaphor!
Jeannie
30 May 2018Thank you, Kathy, I applaud your efforts as you actively recapture joy. There is always this nagging thought that after we have lost a beloved whose absence is devastating and life-changing that there is no longer a path to joy. But I believe there is IF we let our bodies purge the grief – which is how the body is made; and, why I wrote NINE FRIENDS. To think we can’t get there or that we can’t find it, or worse yet, deserve it – are all normal thoughts but they are life-sucking messages we must all overcome. Therefore, the path to the Ninth Friend is not an easy one. I too have yet to find her – but I am convinced she is patiently waiting. And, that is the good news! I wish you a sweet journey, Kathy, clear of rocks, and ruts as you continue your path. Love, Jeannie
Luke G
30 May 2018Great Post!
Jeannie
30 May 2018Thank you, Luke! Come back again!
Annemarie Osborne
30 May 2018Your vulnerability allows others to honor their own journey through the devastation of loss. The NINE FRIENDS offer a heart-wrenching description of the stages we experience when loss shakes the foundation of our lives. Thank you for providing a sanctuary for the spirit wherein we can safely acknowledge our indescribable pain.
Jeannie
30 May 2018Thank you for your beautiful words, Annemarie. You have captured the essence of this blog. Yes, that is it! Just as you wrote, ” A sanctuary for the spirit wherein we can safely acknowledge our indescribable pain.” May it be so. Love, Jeannie
Janie Jasin
10 Jun 2018I am meeting the nine friends slowly. I have created a new awareness of additional reasons for my precious son’s death. Mental Illness has raised a flag for me to see– my son’s struggle in early childhood with his dealing with various situations, now add alcohol in teen life and the death potion is being mixed.
As Jeff’s mother I thought all of Jeff’s pain was mine to absorb. It was not to be- not only alcohol carried him away.
9 friends? These 9 haven’t appeared as yet. Seems I am dealing with 3 at this time.
Jeannie
10 Jun 2018Janie, my deepest sorrow for the loss of your precious son – the mother in me truly aches for you.
The first four friends, Shock, Sobs, Grief and Sorrow, can stay far beyond our desire to have them – as they are excruciatingly painful to live with but necessary for us to continue our journey of healing. Hang in.
There is no doubt that the circumstances of a beloved one leaving us will always add tremendous complications to their passing – and even greater agony when one thinks it could have been prevented. Mayo Clinic had a full page ad in today’s paper advertising that they NOW have a new procedure for the terminal cancer that my twin had. The procedure could have saved her life- but 3 years late.
John Greenleaf Whittier, known as one of the 1800’s Fireside Poets once wrote:
“For of all sad words of tongue or pen,
The saddest are these: “It might have been!”