I talk to a lot of people I don't normally get to see through Facebook. Yes, I know Facebook is now for old people, but in terms of socializing, with the crazy life I sometimes have, it's the only way to be a part of someone's life.
Most of my friendships are cemented by life events. Kindergarten. High school. College. Nursing school. Rexie and I met in nursing school. The knockdown drag out year that was accelerated nursing.
We decided to sit near each other. Being creatures of habit, we gravitated to the same spot with our friends, D and J. We anchored our section in the lecture hall, and we bonded. We collected papers for each other. We called each other if anyone got sick. We commiserated after exams at the local coffee shop.
Rexie has been teaching since we got out of nursing school. She had another interesting life before nursing school which helped her land that job. It also helped that the professor wanted to train someone before she retires.
But today, Rexie is back in the town she grew up in, and I can't help her. I can't make anything better, because Rexie's son died in a terrible accident. It was supposed to be fun: the men out for the weekend. It wasn't supposed to end like this.
As her friend, I can only see her pain from a distance; an uncomfortable space I have only travelled reluctantly in my life. I watch from afar. And pray. Pray she makes it through everything in the coming days.
More later...
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