My friend is nearing the end of her life. I owe her so much. She is the person who taught me how to think.

I have so many feelings about it and everyone is worn out, I don’t want to burden the world with this. So, I’ll put it here, in my never read blog.

I was in my 30s when I met her. I foolishly thought it might be too late for me to do something different. She gave me examples of women who had done what I was trying to do, who had done it successfully. She gave me courage. She is whip smart and so generous. She loves to laugh. She loves playing games. She loves good food and fun company. She loves a cause. She loves justice and fights for it. She has the most diverse group of friends of anyone I have ever known. She attracts light.

Now I make her dinner. I am one of many who do this for her. She has a huge network of people who love her and help her, a sure sign of a life well-lived.

But we are in a pandemic. She cannot be with her people like she wants to. We cannot play games together. We see each other with masks on. Her beloved son and grandchildren live far away, in another country. She still cannot get her second vaccine. She is told she has to go to the mass vaccine site she went to for the first. She will need help and a wheelchair. Another friend is helping with this very practical matter. Will it happen in time?

What she wants more than anything is more time. Time with her grandchildren. She wants to hug them. She even wants to hug me and how I would love to hug her back. It is heartbreaking.

What she does not want is sympathy. These days, it is hard not to send it out to her over my mask. She sees it in my eyes. I catch myself. I offer her practical help. This is what she wants from me. So this is what I give. I honour her by doing what she asks of me, and she honours me by asking.

When my mother was dying, right at the very end, I realized I had thought of her as dying while she was still living. We label people as dying too soon. My friend is still living and her life is very hard right now. The grief of this time overflows.