Lisa notes

“Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can.”
— Arthur Ashe

Remember the Connections

I’ve missing my quirky friend Violet. Last month marked one year since she died. A couple Fridays ago would have been her 57th birthday.

Violet wasn’t always an easy friend. But she was an unforgettable one.

She lived with more than her fair share of challenges. Upon meeting her years ago (maybe 2004?), I immediately saw she had learning disabilities, a speech impediment, and a childlike naïveté about life.

But she also had joy. None of her hardships stopped her from connecting with anyone, anywhere. If she met you today, in the first five minutes, you would find yourself telling her:

• Your birthday
• How old you are
• Your favorite music

And the next time she saw you? She’d remember those. (Not me—I struggle to just recall names.)

Violet loved birthdays and music. Especially Elvis Presley, whose birthday—she’d tell you—was January 8. I think she loved him because her mama loved him. And Violet loved her mama. She also loved Hall & Oates. Charley Pride. Any 70s and 80s pop band.

If an oldie came on the radio when we were together in the car, I could trust Violet to accurately tell me who was singing it. Sometimes I’d think,

There’s no way she can know that.

And I’d google the song. But sure enough, she was always right.

Violet also loved her brother, cheering for Auburn football (War Eagle, Violet! but no, we probably won’t beat Alabama this year), playing Candy Crush on her tablet, listening to Pandora on her phone, and eating Moose Tracks ice cream in her apartment.

What Friends Give You

Being around Violet often restored my faith in humanity. Why? Not only did she place an innocent trust in most people, I also saw most people respond to her with patience and gentleness.

I’ll never forget the kind bank clerk who helped us set up a new account. Violet wanted the clerk to understand—over and over—how many years that she and I had been friends. Violet would turn to me and ask,

“How long have we known each other? 12 years?”

And each time, I would reply,

“Actually it’s been about 20 years!”

Violet would repeat that to the clerk. Over and over and over. The exact conversation, sometimes just a minute apart.

Yet each time, the clerk showed appropriate amazement, as if she were hearing it for the first time.

That moment, among many others, reminded me that people can be quite generous when given the opportunity.

When Friendship Isn’t Easy

Not everything was smooth though. Sometimes we got on each other’s nerves. Like those days when she would call me 30, 40, maybe 50 times in a day. Mainly just to say that:

• Someone we knew had died (maybe last week or maybe 3 years ago)
• Or to tell me a storm was coming tomorrow
• Or to ask if I could get her some Reese’s Pieces the next time I was at the store

Because of Violet, I learned how to do things that I’d never done before. Like navigate food stamps. Track down missing Social Security checks. Fill out a Medicaid application.

And in Violet’s final months, I had to learn how to guide around a blind friend who couldn’t grasp what was happening (which is how I often felt myself).

I did none of those things exactly right. I fumbled many times. And often had to call for help myself.

I felt overwhelmed by Violet’s conditions. And very sad. Yet also frustrated. I couldn’t convince her to try healthier foods or wash her socks or stretch the carton of ice cream over multiple nights instead of eating it all at one time.

But worse, I couldn’t keep Violet from dying.

Things You Can’t Fix

I innocently hoped that a single simple eye procedure would restore Violet’s vision. And with it, bring a brand new sparkling life for her—finally living where she could be taken care of, being served three good meals every day, and discovering a hallway full of new birthdays.

But after the first, then the second, and even the third surgery all failed to restore her vision—not even in the smallest way—she faded fast.

The good life I’d wanted for her future years here wasn’t possible after all. And there was nothing I could do about it.

Instead of getting to see Violet’s life change, it was my life that was changing.

• I became more aware of my ignorance of how people live with disabilities.
• I recognized how much privilege I had been born with.
• I learned that compassion means little if it stays in the heart—it must move through the body, stepping into spaces where love becomes action.

To quote the writer/artist Mary Anne Radmacher, I also learned that:

“Courage doesn’t always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, ‘I will try again tomorrow.’“

So thank you, Violet.

For loving me and letting me love you. For building more courage in me than I knew I had. For the days you gave me to try again tomorrow.

You taught me that love doesn’t have to be perfect to be powerful.

Many people loved Violet powerfully. Many people continue to miss her today.

I am one of them.

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Who in your life has taught you things you didn’t know you needed? Share your thoughts in the comments.

Read more friendship adventures here:

• Do You Need to Change the Channel?
  Need to change where you’re placing your attention? Be proactive: change the channel.
• One More Try to Go Home
  How will my friend view “home” if her surgery works? If it doesn’t? Amidst life’s uncertainties, home is our solace.
• The Unexpected Impact of a Short Friendship
  It was only a short friendship with a hospice nurse. But even brief encounters can make unexpected impacts on our lives.