My Friends, Chapter 11: Cynthia

Cynthia once told me a very moving story about her dear mother. Cynthia took care of her mom before she passed and in one of their final conversations her mom said she wished they'd been sisters rather than mother and daughter. That brings me to tears for many reasons. First, because I think it is a sweet sentiment to say such a thing, probably meaning she wanted to have lived her life beside such a soul as Cynthia rather than ahead of her or above her in one way or another. Also, because their is a certain humility I associate with that story. Perhaps Cynthia's mom was saying she felt a little unqualified to be such a person's mother. I don't know for sure. These are assumptions but the reason I share them is to illustrate my own feelings for my dear Cynthia. I, too, have felt we should have been sisters. I met Cynthia as a 22 year old newly married girl. Our first exchange went something like this: "WOW!!", Cynthia exclaimed, pointing at Kristin's significantly sized diamond ring. "I never got a diamond myself," she said in a good humored, accepting way, little shrug, big smile. And that's how it started. We were at a church enrichment meeting for the Relief Society, all women. I felt so embarrassed of that ring so often. It really is gorgeous. It was just so eye catching and it brought out all kinds of weird female behavior. But Cynthia was just being observant. She really is so observant of others and cares very much about how people are doing. She has always been that way with me.
As a newly married person I had very little interest in people my own age. My best friend was on her mission and all the BYU couples were in their own little universe. I was going to UT and struggling with the notion that I had married someone who did not love me. I felt awkward in life and wasn't sure how to relate with others. I missed my best friend so much I thought I was going to die of loneliness. I avoided friends because I didn't know how to explain why I wasn't happy. I was harboring hopes about some miracle, always looming in the future, that would fix my marriage. I was pretty isolated. My one joy was working at the Montessori school in the afternoons where I enjoyed the company of curious and beautiful children. It was very fulfilling and fun.
So, in my dismal situation, I tried to avoid situations and people that would make me feel trapped or cornered or places I would be forced to talk. If I started talking who knows what I might say? Or I might start to cry unexpectedly. How awful. Somehow Cynthia made her way through these layers of fear and pain and became my friend. She came over one Saturday morning to train me how to create the ward bulletin. She was very helpful. I found her very fun and chatty and vibrant. I thought she was so beautiful and bright. I just couldn't help but love her. She invited us to dinner. I told her what my husband would and would not eat so as not to find ourselves in an embarrassing situation. "Meat and potatoes. Okay. I can handle that!" She was so darling.
When I graduated from UT she threw me a wonderful party. Many friends from the ward came. It was in her home on the Sunday following my graduation. There was a gorgeous fruit platter with interestingly cut produce, it looked like art. There were all kinds of hors d'oeuvres and a magnificent chocolate cake with a scrolled diploma illustrated on it in white icing. It was so amazing! The whole thing. Everyone else's husband was there. Not my own. He was tired that day. It was always so sad and embarrassing explaining why my husband wasn't around or why he would behave in interesting ways. I hated having to explain things I didn't understand myself. The year before, when he graduated, I attended all his festivities in smiles and high heels. But Cynthia wasn't offended by his absence. I was grateful because I was mortified by his lack of interest in my successes in general and hated to think he was offending the few people I trusted; those who loved and celebrated my joys with unselfish generosity. It meant the world to me.
Years went by and Cynthia was always a fixture at birthday parties, holiday celebrations, baby showers I would throw for friends, and the occasional casual gathering. She kept inviting us to dinner and humbly serving some version of meat and potatoes each time. When I became the choir director at church she and her son Chase joined right up. It was so fun to have them on board. One Easter we did an entire cantata that ran the whole sacrament meeting. It was beautiful.
When things started to really go south in my marriage Cynthia was able to pick up on the signs of grief readily. We talked longs hours. I stayed at her house a few times to sort out my thoughts. It was a ghastly time. She helped me tremendously. When I decided to give my marriage another heartfelt try, she was supportive, although concerned. I moved to Chicago with a wisp of a hope left in my heart that all would be well. My husband would be attending law school up there. So we went and I got a job teaching fourth grade in the Village of Wilmette where we also lived. I kept in touch with Cynthia via telephone and email. When I was hit with the confession about another woman I called her almost immediately. "Come on home, girl!" And that's just what I did, after a few months wrapping things up in Chicago. I went directly to Cynthia's house upon my arrival. I cried a lot. We laughed a lot. We ate a lot. I felt such a tangible relief, it was really quite amazing. I felt safe for the first time in a long time. I knew everything would be alright, somehow. Cynthia helped me see that. I had high hopes. I was offered a job at the school I had taught at after my graduation. I was thrilled to accept it. Cynthia helped me move into my classroom and set things up. She came with me that spring to El Paso. We took her van and we talked the entire time. It was so fun. Nine hours never passed so quickly. She got to meet my parents and we stayed with them and ate all kinds of ridiculously wonderful Mexican food. I showed her some of my old haunts like the art museum and some fun hang outs. She met my uncle Bob and my aunt Sharon. We had a blast. And we've really been having fun ever since. She has helped me move like 7 times! She has given me great advice. When it got icy she insisted I spend the night. "In case your pipes freeze, it's best you stay with us for a couple days." It's always been like that. We joined ART DIVAS together, unexpectedly one Saturday. Now we rub elbows with artsy fartsy ladies who have more money than they know what to throw at. It's really cute. I sang solos at her father's memorial service and her son's wedding reception. She checks on me every week and I feel so blessed to have such a person in my life. She is family. No other way to describe it. Her dear husband, Rick, has been so wonderful, too. He is the sweetest man in the world and has given me wise counsel and has blessed me in times of trial. When I had a dog they watched Bella any time I had to go out of town. Bella was no picnic either. Prima donna doesn't even begin to describe it. Suffice it to say, Cynthia is a true friend, beloved, and enduring. It's nice to know that in this complicated world, some things only evolve over time and do not fade and diminish. Cynthia, you have been my adviser, my friend, my sister, in many ways like a mother and I am ever grateful. I love you so!