I’m writing this the morning after I attended a dear childhood friend’s Celebration of Life and also heard that my Estes Park friend, who chose in January not to undergo radical and invasive cancer treatment, passed.

We all know death is a part of life, but it still hits hard. Two factors contribute: Finality and loss. Death is final—there are no do-overs, and it is a loss usually rated above all others.

These two women were very different, yet both were loved and revered. One had no natural children, and the other had one son, but they both had step-children who loved and treated them with great respect and appreciation. One had three sisters, and the other had one sister. Neither had brothers. They were both in their early 70s, and one fought the disease with everything medicine could provide, and the other chose hospice and let her body determine when to let go. Both loved life and lived it to the fullest.

What struck me strongest about these two friends was their authenticity. One I knew my whole life, and the other just a few years, but I never had to wonder who was showing up when I saw them. One was a genuine, witty comic; the other was serious and always to the point. Both were gracious and beautiful, as well as living gifts.

As I listened to what everyone said, through heartfelt tears, at the Celebration of Life, I thought how extraordinary my friend was, not just to me but to all who worked, played, and lived with her. I heard over and over how her laughter, impersonations, thoughtful kindness, and generous affection lit up every moment they were in her presence. I envisioned her laughing from heaven and telling a joke when it was over.

My hospice friend died at home with her family around her, just as she had planned. Even though I wasn’t witness to her passing, I knew she passed with calming peace and a sweet smile. That’s just who she was.

I think I can say most people struggle with death, both theirs and others. The unknown is likely one of the culprits, but the emptiness we feel when someone we love will no longer sit with us at the table is probably the most disturbing element of death. If we are attending the Celebration of Life, we are also facing our inevitable death while wondering what people would say and feel about us when we’re gone.

It’s a here and now, yet a then and when situation.

I leave you with what I learned from these two special friends. Be authentic—it reaps the rewards now and forever.

Until the next time: Live while you live.

Jennifer Goble, Ph.D., LPC, is the author of “My Clients…My Teachers,” and the blogger and writer of Rural Women Stories: www.ruralwomenstories.com.

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