A Journey Through Friendship...

(Though this is not Linda, it could be!)

 

It was winter when I first met Linda.  I was "the new kid on the block" hired to work in a seven-bed Intensive Care Unit and Linda was assigned to be my Preceptor.  Becoming friends was an interesting journey.

In the beginning, I found my new colleague unapproachable, abrasive and unfriendly.  She was all business and I don't think I ever saw her smile.  She was a plump figure of authority, which I found somewhat intimidating.  She had a round face, fair complexion and wore her long blonde hair pulled back in a tidy ponytail.  Her uniforms were clean and neatly pressed every day and she always smelled fresh, like she had just stepped out of a shower.

She looked like a woman who took her job and her life seriously.

She had one feature, however, that I loved immediately.  Her eyes!  They were as green as the Irish Sea which gave me a hint of her roots.  I filed my first impressions and the depth of her fixed in her eyes into my memory bank.

For weeks, I followed Linda around the unit, taking notes on a little notepad she taught me to use.  I observed with interest her meticulous care of each of her assigned patients.  She left not only her patients, but each room tidy and clean whenever she was finished with her duties.  I jotted this information down for future use.

As time went by, I began to see Linda's softer side.  I found a warm, caring heart beneath that crusty exterior and when no one was looking, she let me see her smile.  Though she never laughed out loud, her smile spoke volumes. 

Over time and through our encounters at work, my respect for Linda the nurse and Linda the person, grew.  She became my mentor, my role model and soon enough, my best friend.

Our journey into friendship had its beginning when I learned one day that Linda and I were going to attend the same Women's Conference on our day off.  I enquired if she might like to go with me.

She seemed delighted, and said, "Yes."

The Conference was held in an outdoor setting in a wooded area complete with a bubbling stream, picnic tables, and a fire circle.  It was here that I got to know Linda the woman.  I learned that she was not unapproachable at all.  We got better acquainted while walking a path in the woods beside the refreshing stream.  She let me into her inner thoughts and I shared mine with her.  And these are not things I jotted down in my little notepad.  These are things that I recorded in my heart.

Our friendship blossomed over the next nine years.  We worked together, played together and we both went back to school together.  We spent three years studying, agonizing over tests, and rejoicing in our quest to earn a BSN degree.  We realized that dream in June of 1992.

In the fall of 1998, I moved away from our small southern Utah town.  My journey would take me to Oregon, where I began a new chapter in my own life, leaving my friend behind.  I didn't hear from her for a very long time.  I spent time writing, calling and leaving messages.

Since I never got replies, I began to worry.  Then one day, a card and letter arrived in the mail.  It came when I had all but given up that I would ever hear from my friend again.  She apologized for being a poor correspondent.  She filled me in on her recent health issues.  This news frightened me.  She told me that her heart was in trouble and that she had recently undergone open-heart surgery to replace two valves.  She was experiencing a great deal of fatigue and was not able to work in the profession that she loved so much.

Oh, how I wanted to fly to Utah and be with her.  I'm not sure why I didn't go, but I didn't.  Maybe it was because it was so far and I couldn't afford the trip.  She told me in her letter that she "didn't deserve a friend like me!"  That gave me pause, and I thought, I am the one who doesn't deserve a friend like Linda.

Linda passed away just one day shy of her 60th birthday in the same Intensive Care Unit where we worked side by side for all those years.  That letter I received just months prior to her death was my last communication with her.

As I look back and realize the many powerful ways Linda touched my heart and my life, one truth is evident--first impressions can be one-dimensional and are not always a true picture of all the layers of a person.  Sometimes we need to be fitted with 3-D glasses to see their full depth.  As I see it, 3-D equals time, patience and love.

I miss you, my friend.