Wednesday, May 20, 2009

My Friend, Sandy

Yesterday you met my friend, Sandy.  My dead friend.  She still makes me cry a lot.

About 10 days before my friend died I had returned from vacation and announced I was getting a puppy.  A puppy that came complete with a HUSBAND.  Upon hearing this news, Sandy said, "I don't care what you think you got over on your mother, but WE will approve of this man when we meet him."  This kind of pissed me off at the time, but she was right.  I had brought every man I'd dated since the ex to CBA to pass the sniff test.

My husband never got to meet Sandy.  He didn't get to NC until a week after we'd put her in the ground.

The Saturday Sandy was killed was a busy day.  Her son had just returned from deployment overseas.  Sandy was riding her motorcycle and Mr. Lee was following behind her in the truck.  They were going to meet their son and his family for breakfast and then everyone was headed to a poker run.  We were trying to raise funds for a friend's back surgery.

As soon as I had arrived at the poker run's home base, we'd received a call about Sandy's crash.  A few went to the hospital to be with Mr. Lee and the family, the rest of us stayed and worked the event.  We were notified a few hours later that she'd passed away.

It was a crushing day, to say the least.

And I was devastated because I felt like Sandy and I had unfinished business.  I needed her approval on my pending nuptials.

Sandy's crash was less than a mile from her home.  The car caught her with the front wheel and basically, her guts all mashed up and she died as a result of those crushing injuries.  Sandy was wearing her helmet, and that fuchsia lipstick she always wore.  Her hair was pretty much "in place" and her lipstick was not even smudged.  And please remember, Mr. Lee witnessed every moment of this from the pickup he was driving right behind her.

Sandy is buried in the cemetery right across the street from the home she shared with Mr. Lee for a whole lot of years.  He still lives there.  He sees their double gravestone Every.  Single.  Day.

We visit her on the anniversary of her death every year.  We take a small memorial ride and treat Mr. Lee to lunch.  I finally took Junior to meet her this year.

That first year was HARD.  Sandy was a very active chapter member.  It was very obvious that her infectious joy was not around.  We named a chapter service award after her and it is given annually in the spirit to the honoree in which it was named.

I thought about Sandy and our unfinished business A LOT.  I would dream about her often.  My first spring at the new office we'd moved our company into, there was an empty flower pot on the front porch.  These were the days before I was CONSUMED by gardening so I wasn't really interested in that pot other than to prop the door open.

Something magical happened.

Out of no where and absolutely NO CARE, petunias started growing in that pot.  The first bloom revealed their color.  And it perfectly matched Sandy's signature fuchsia lipstick.  Those flowers made me cry, cry, CRY just as much as they made me happy.

And I sat on the porch a lot more often.  Just to stare at Sandy's petunias.  And be comforted.

My boyfriend has a 9:00 haircuts deal where they play 80's metal/hair band songs.  Our chapter meetings usually dismiss around 9:00 and I often catch this song playing and it makes me cry my eyes out:


Sandy IS an angel and flowers truly DO bloom in her name.  

Because a left turn killed her.

2 comments:

basicliving@backtobasicliving.com said...

I remember reading about Sandy's death on one of the biker lists I was a member of at the time. It has always stayed with me for several reasons, but I was so horrified that her husband had to watch it happen. I can not imagine what a nightmare it would be to not only lose my soul mate, but to actually witness it happen.

I'm so sorry you lost such a wonderful friend. I wish I had known her. By all accounts, she was a beautiful person.

Penny

Mr. Motorcycle said...

I am really sorry for your loss of such a good friend. I can see she surely meant a lot to you, and her husband.