The first hints of autumn have begun to sneak into summer and as always, my thoughts begin to turn more to you. It was your favorite time of year and you loved wearing the sweaters that came with the cooler weather. And what a production you would make of Halloween; and Thanksgiving; and Christmas! I remember coming over to your house in March and you were thinking about taking the tree down. Maybe.

We met and became friends when we were in the fifth grade. All those years, through all your boyfriends, my two marriages, and through what was almost the biggest mistake of my life, until I changed my mind at the last possible moment, we stood beside each other. Never judging, always supporting.

For thirty five years, our friendship survived, until pancreatic cancer came and took you from us. I am a nurse. I remember the phone call from my mom and the cold chill that went over me as I heard those words. I held it together until my shift was over, but how I drove home through the flood of tears I still don't know. I called you on the way home, and tried not to cry, but I couldn't offer any false words of hope, other than to "fight this thing."

You did fight. For nine long, horrible, pain filled months, you fought, but as is so often the case with pancreatic cancer, it won and claimed another victim.

It has been five years now, and I still miss you as much as I did right after you left. I guess I always will. The pain is not as sharp, but it is still there. It catches me off guard, sometimes. I may catch a glimpse of an old picture of you as I'm looking at a photo album, and then it feels as sharp and as fresh as the morning your husband called to tell me you were gone.

I think of you every time I make that killer spaghetti sauce that you showed me. Your family recipe. And those stuffed mushrooms that no one can ever get enough of, those are yours, too.

I dream of you often, now. In my dreams you are once again healthy and your hair, that you were so proud of, is again, long and full. You appear happy and seem to come to me when I am troubled. I can never hear what you are saying, but you smile, and I see the love in your eyes. I wake up with tears on my face, crying in my dream and in life. I never see you in pain, but whole and healthy again, and for that, I am so thankful.

I miss you so much, my friend.

Learn more about this author, P. M. Montgomery.
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