I find that as I get older, moments and memories have so much more meaning to me, if that’s at all possible. I have always had my heart on my sleeve or so I’ve been told. I’m an open book. There’s no guessing how I feel about something; even if I don’t verbalize it you can see it written all over my face.

In twenty-four hours I’m face to face with the reality of life and death. Yesterday I mourned the first anniversary of a good friend’s death. She was my best friend through junior high school (where we met), and high school. I was her maid of honor at her wedding. We both love art. And that’s how we got so close. All through school, we took the same art classes, talked about it on the phone; we even sold our art work when we could. We weren’t the most popular in school….actually we weren’t popular at all, more like a little on the “nerdy” side but not to the point where people didn’t want to hang around us.

It was the days of maxi dresses, long straight hair, Gremlin cars, and rock and roll. When our friends were cutting class and going down to the river for fun, drinking and skinny dipping; Patti and I would be sitting in classes with our “nose to the canvas” you might say.

Our favorite class of course was our art class with Miss Pollack. She must have seen some promise in our art work, because Miss Pollack applied for scholarships to the University of Kansas Summer Art Program for us. Maybe it was just our enthusiasm that made her do it. In any case, the University gave us partial scholarships, so that meant we had to raise the money to cover the rest of the tuition. Patti and I worked hard, after school and on weekends. We had cupcake sales outside of the grocery store in town and sold our art work, in an effort to raise the tuition. In short, Patti ended up going to Kansas and I didn’t, but she left promising to bring back her books and tell me everything she learned. Patti kept her promise like a true friend. It was a great summer.

Like most people after graduating high school, we all went our separate ways, but Patti and I kept in touch. Not as much as either of us would like but when we did talk again or visit, it was like we had never been apart. Patti pursued her art while raising a family and I gave mine up for a lot of years until my children were grown and then I rekindled my love for art. Now Patti is gone, way too young and I miss her and the times we talked. Patti had three loves; her children, her husband and her art. She loved talking about all three. Patti was a beautiful person, inside and out and it transcended through her art work. I find my heart has an empty place that she filled.

With the over whelming emotions of missing Patti last night, I woke this morning to a new blog posted by another friend; one much younger who is just starting this life journey with her new husband and now a baby. I find myself welling up with emotion again as I read her blog and see how she is growing and experiencing all the feelings that new mother’s feel about their children. It’s a feeling you don’t understand until you become a mother. You never understand the human capacity to love until you have children.

Even if I were just an observer…which really that’s all we are…I realize those familiar things in my life are passing buy, including the people.  It’s like watching my life pass by in slow motion and all those little things that were significant moments for me are gone.  It makes me feel very melancholy.  At the same time I’m so excited about all the new babies being born, and watching young people starting out on their own journey.  Life continues to be born in various ways all around us, and other seasons pass away silently but not without mourning.  Life always gives way to life.  What matters is what you do with that journey and how many memories you make and leave behind.