GOLD HEARTS, GOLD STREETS
“Look over my girl,” Mom whispered in response to the question that hung in the air.
Then she closed her eyes to rest in the pain that accompanies an early departure.
Barely an hour before, Shirli and Don had arrived unannounced, but warmly welcomed, into our family’s grief. They were the kind of friends that came to hold you up in the darkness - the kind of friends who’d walk you to the door.
Peace entered when they grasped our hands and drew up their chairs, as if just stopping by for a quick cup of coffee. I listened as stories, tears and laughter flowed easily between them- four parents to two best friends.
My mom always guarded her damaged heart from most people, but not Shirli. Shirli was safe -a comfortable place for words to land; souls to open.
Not one of them had ever joined the church choir. Yet that night, they raised voices and lifted faces to the Lord Who brought them together, to the Lord Who would bring them Home.
We all laughed when - out of the blue - my ever-proper mom asked Don if he was comfortable. She offered him her bed in exchange for his vinyl chair. The laughter faded into a mutual silence where kindred spirits sat, all present and accounted for, one last time on earth.
Don sighed, pushing himself to stand, and offered his hand to his wife. It was time to go.
I stepped out, unable to bear witness to that sacred farewell; to see Shirli lean in, face close, reach to steady Mom’s trembles, and ask, “What can I do for you, Lynn?”
And so for 18 years, Mom’s faithful friend carried out her request. Shirli draped prayers over my tired, lost soul like a familiar quilt -the sound of her voice mending heartbreak; her hugs offering hope.
Our last visit, Shirli squeezed my hand in her knowing way while we shared communion- soda crackers and cranberry juice- so close that our knees and spirits touched.
Though her mind had faded, her faith had not; her hand resting on the open Word, she nodded her amen.
“There’s streets of gold, you know,” she reminded me when we talked of her friend, Lynn.
Today, they walk them together, friends forever, joined in Christ.