"We interrupt this special program for an important announcement..."

Five days ago I heard the devastating news that my good friend passed away in her sleep.

She was 37.

She has 4 kids and one amazing, sweet husband.

This passing was completely, 100% unexpected.

This was a woman who I thought would live to be in her 100's; old, cranky, healthy as a horse and sharp as a tack.

I never would have guessed this would be a woman that God decided he needed a little earlier than what my crystal ball was predicting. 

And I wonder if she agreed as she was taken home to her Maker. 

This was a gal who loved everyone fiercely, and she loved her children even more. As her husband quoted her at her funeral, "I don't want to raise average kids to send out to the world, I want to raise the best."

And so she did. She was 5 feet tall and tough, but all in the name of love.

What I loved too was that she never once worried what others thought of her. She was too busy making the world a better place, raising her kids to be the stellar children that they have become in the short time she has been with them, serving others and finding humor and happiness all in between.

I. Loved. This. Girl. 

She used to live behind me, our homes shared the same alley. How I loved that she was right there. The knowledge in that brought peace to my heart. She was such a brave, courageous woman that though I was 950 miles from my family and felt the vulnerability of that, her friendship was enough for me to feel safe in this new state, full of new people and ridiculously stupid drivers (like the time when she mentioned how ridiculous it was that people stopped a whole car-length behind other cars at the intersection or how they would stop several feet before the intersection line--she turned that into a story so funny I nearly cried). She and I would laugh the day away. There was always something to talk about, something to laugh about, something to smile about.

She gave the best stories. She could turn a generic story about running to the store to get some milk into a laugh-fest, adding details of humorous things only she had the knack to pick up on. 

She once told me the story about her older sister's worthless boyfriend, how he treated her sister terribly and somehow, she found a way to get us all laughing in the end. Every story had humor.

After finding of her passing I cried. Tears would fill my eyes and before I had enough in them to make them cascade down my face, I would instantly be reminded of a funny story or experience that had her in it. My tears of sadness turned into tears of laughter. And this carried on to the next day. 

I wished that for just a few minutes, that would be allowed to mourn, to let it all out, to cry it away.

And then I got a very distinct impression. I felt it was my friend giving me these funny memories, these moments we shared with loud laughter. I then understood that my friend was telling me that she didn't want to be remembered through tears of sorrow, but through the good times, through the humor. 

And once I embraced that, I decided that I would honor that request.

I firmly believe that just because someone dies it does not mean that they are forever no longer in existence. Just because my friend is not here, inside her physical body, she still lives! She's still here! 

A couple times I heard her laughter during these past few days. No one has the laughter she does. Hers is unique. It's loud, heartfelt, popping, and contagious.

I hope to hear it more. I hope to view the world more as she did. So much I learned from her in the six years I have known her. How I wish I would have told her before she passed how much of that I have taken with me and how much it has changed me for the better.

I quote her all the time. I wonder if I ever told her that.

I find humor and happiness in all things. She inspired that in me. "Life is too short," I would say, "to be serious". And I see that she was the prime example of my own words.

I found that being a strong, courageous woman is a trait I should never shun from being, something I should never apologize for. Being stubborn too, I have found, is not a trait I should ignore or be embarrassed about. This woman was strong, this woman was stubborn as hell, but all in the name of love and in the name of honoring her children and keeping her family safe. She didn't care what other's thought of her, she knew what was best for her family. And what she was was the best mother and wife that family could have asked for. 

How many times do people come into our lives, touch our lives for the better and we never tell them? Too many times. 

Pam, I hope you're reading this. I hope you know how much I keep you close to my heart. I hope you know that I know you are not far and that I know you have checked in on me, just as you would do with all your friends and family. 

You are the perfect example of loving, mother hen. 

And a life-changing friend. Your work has not ended, but just began. And I know you, you'll dive in head-first protecting, comforting, healing, guiding, all with that unconditional love you have and finding humor in everything to go tell those on the other side. 

If only I could hear those stories. 

God bless you, my friend. And thank you, for blessing my life.