About My Friend Abby

I want to write about my childhood friend Abby, about how much I loved this angelic tow-headed girl in black corduroy overalls from the moment I met her on a walk home from school. I want to tell you how free I felt around her to be myself at a time when that was what I needed the most. I remember most vividly how we created magic spells and faerie worlds with our imaginations; that we had countless sleepovers, and that to this day, there is no one who could make me feel as beautiful as she could while giving me one of her famed makeovers.

We were Abby one and Abby two — a couple of silly blonde and brunette girls with kindred souls on the same soccer team in elementary school. Since she passed away over a year ago, I have wanted to write about Abby countless times, but it’s been too hard. Last January, I wrote about her indirectly. Thankfully, yet heart-achingly, I finally feel ready to write some more.


The last time I got to be with her for more than an hour was on a weekend trip to Portland, a couple years before I moved there myself. We had reconnected after some years apart — our adult paths had wandered in different directions after high school, as they sometimes do. She invited me to stay with her as soon as she got settled in her new place (she was just about to move to Portland to go to beauty school).  About a month later, I decided to take her up on it. I rode the train up from Eugene, and I remember seeing her walking toward me in front of the station with that big, glowing smile of hers. Abby could take any speck of sunlight and triple it’s shine just by grinning. I had become so accustomed to her profound beauty over the years that it almost felt like old news. Almost. That day in particular, wearing a red long-sleeve top, with blonde waves caressing her cheek, she was radiant, and I was taken aback by this gorgeous woman my friend had become.

We decided to grab a drink at a bar nearby, and of course she insisted on buying my drink. That was such an Abby thing to do. Throughout our decade-long friendship, she had always been so generous to me, not only with her worldly possessions, but with her kindness. She had a complete willingness to share what little of hers she had with others — it was one of her defining characteristics, and I so admired her for it. In fact, I often felt stingy in comparison, ever-worried about not having “enough”.  It wasn’t as if Abby hadn’t lost everything before –she had. But this miraculously didn’t change her for the worst. Where some might have closed themselves off in response to the sting of the world, she gave even more freely.

She took me to her work where she introduced me to her hip crew of co-workers. It was clear to me that they meant a whole lot to her and vice versa. After chatting out back for a half hour or so with what felt like her tribe on a smoke break, we bought groceries for dinner and rode the bus back to her place. That night, while getting ready to go out in her little bathroom, I got my last and most memorable Abby makeover.

When she asked if she could do my makeup, I wasn’t too surprised. This was a game we’d played since we were 9 or 10. And now she was in beauty school, after all. I was so proud of her! I willingly closed my eyes and let her apply eye shadow. She blew on my eyelids afterwards to scatter any loose dust into the air. She took her time lovingly applying bronzer, mascara and lip color. We had a good laugh when I tried desperately not to blink during the mascara application; my eyes had a mind of their own and would clamp shut any time her little brush came near. After a fit of giggles, I regained my focus and held them open with steely resolve. When she was done, she told me I was beautiful.

There have only been a handful of moments in my life when I have truly felt seen, flaws and all, and believed another’s praise. This was one of those rare moments, and under her warm gaze, it felt effortless.

This memory of the two of us as kids-turned-adults applying makeup in the orange glow of her bathroom has remained my most enduring touchstone when I think of my friend after her death. It still conjures up a wellspring of love in my chest whenever I recall it. Of course, it also brings a torrent of sadness and longing. I am ashamed to admit I didn’t know of the depth of Abby’s suffering. Of course we were privy to one another’s inner worlds as teens, when both of our worlds grew dark for a period. As we each watched our parents divorce, there was no doubt we had our share of private pain to live through. But when she switched schools, we grew apart, and evidently, there was a lot I missed.

In my hardest moments, I wonder if I had asked more questions when I saw her last, if there was something I could have done to help her. But it’s an impossible train of thought that leads me nowhere. So I cry instead, or laugh about a happy moment we’ve shared. I send her a faerie blessing from earth, and I reassure myself that she’s at peace, because in my heart I know she is.

What Dinosaurs and Love Have to Do With One Another

I lie on the cool ground and cover myself in a blanket of leaves, soil and moss. My childhood friend and I lie still, holding our breaths at first, but eventually relaxing into the arms of the earth. Minutes later, the ferocious dinosaur that’s been hunting us for miles passes us by. Just before I wake up from the dream, I watch him lumber off through the forest and dissolve into the horizon, and I feel a deep sense of peace.

What does this dream have to do with anything? you might be thinking. Well as silly as a dream about a dinosaur sounds, this tiny scene is actually full of wisdom, which I hope you might gain something from.

Here’s my interpretation…

In the dream, the earth, a manifestation and symbol of the feminine (love) energy, is a safe haven, salve and protector against the dinosaur, which represents antiquated, primordial fear. This fear is what our ancestors once felt, and what we, on a cosmic level, were initially born from. This is simply part of what makes us human. We all feel primal fear at times during our lives.

What are these fears? Although they vary, many of us experience the fear of truly entering life and “risking it all” to fulfill our purpose, while also equally fearing failure, death, separation, loss, vulnerability and intimacy.

t-rex

Fear is so powerful that it can alter our understanding of who we truly are. That’s why we need an antidote, and the antidote is love. Love is not conditional and it knows no boundaries. It can be felt as an openness and a receptivity to life, regardless of mood or circumstance. This life-giving feminine energy lives inside all of us, and is most fully embodied in mother earth, as we would not exist without the generosity of our planet to sustain us. Therefore, it is not a coincidence that in the dream, my friend and I find refuge in the earth (love), and that this is what causes the dinosaur (fear) to dissolve into the horizon, leaving us unscathed.

If I haven’t lost you yet, here’s what I see as the takeaway: you are love. Beneath all negative emotions, patterns of behavior, and external circumstances, you can access this powerful truth by breathing and opening you heart over and over again. It will take practice, and believe me, I am someone who needs lots of practice, but I do believe we are truly all capable of defeating fear by embracing love.

What’s that? You’re afraid of love? So what, as my boyfriend would say. Love anyways. Love through the fear; love past the fear. Love yourself, love your partner, love your friends, love your family, love your enemies, and love life! Keep in mind that love is not bothered by imperfections, so it isn’t about being flawless or void of darkness. Rather, when you realize there is a greater purpose love serves, to help you grow into your whole, most joyful, empowered and free self, you can embrace the places where you’re broken with compassion.

Love is who you are, even, and especially when, the dinosaur of your deepest fears comes gnashing his teeth, threatening to swallow you whole. When this happens — and if you’re human, it will happen often — return to openness, and let the feminine element of your soul remind you how to be vulnerable.

flower