Do You Have Any Idea How Much You are Loved?

April 2024

Do you know what it’s like to discover—without any advance warning—that a dear friend or loved one has suddenly passed away? Have you ever experienced the shock of an unexpected loss of someone you held very near and dear to your heart? If so, did your loved one really know how much they meant to you, and vice versa?

A month or so ago, as I was triaging my morning email, I noticed in my list of messages an email from a dear friend. The subject header was titled “Sad News.” My immediate thought was, “Oh no. What’s happened?”

As I braced myself to read the news she was sharing, I quickly noticed the Send-To list included about two dozen rather random recipients. Upon closer inspection, the few email addresses I did recognize included her gentleman friend, one of my neighbors, the VP of our P.E.O. chapter, and a society columnist for our community news. The cc-list included her adult children. I then read on with piqued curiosity.

The letter began “Dear Friends,” and went on to introduce the writer as my dear friend’s daughter who was notifying us that her mother had passed away peacefully the prior Saturday morning, surrounded by family. I was totally shocked.

My beloved friend had seemed just fine the last time we were together, although I couldn’t honestly recall how long it had been since we last connected. Looking back through my emails, I found our last correspondence was about a month or so prior—the day before I hosted our P.E.O. chapter meeting. This friend had sent me a brief but friendly note saying: “Hi Deb. I won’t make tomorrow but have a great meeting!” No mention of any health issues or other concerns.

How was it she could be gone so quickly?

Looking back, my friend had legally immigrated to the United States from Cuba, along with her parents and siblings, during the Cuban missile crisis of 1962. She was known by all as a happy and optimistic, people-oriented go-getter who thrived regardless of the circumstances that life presented. For as long as I had known her, she always seemed healthy and in love with her life as an author, sister, mother and grandmother, university professor, philanthropist, historian, preservationist, conservationist, language instructor, and friend to all.  

I responded to her daughter’s email immediately. I explained how her mother and I had been loving friends for over a decade, and how much I had appreciated her serving as Corresponding Secretary during the two years I served as P.E.O. chapter president. I assured the daughter that I would have gladly aided and comforted her, and her family, had I only known her situation. I closed by asking about funeral arrangements.

The daughter responded that her mother wished to have a memorial service in Chicago, where she had spent much of her life after coming to America and where many of her lifelong friends and family still lived. Sadly, sharing final farewells in Chicago wasn’t in the cards for me.

If only I had told my beautiful friend in-person, while she was still alive, just how much I cherished her friendship and sisterhood. Although I know I did, it was only in casual bits and drabs along the way. In hindsight, those little expressions of love and appreciation for all the wonderful blessings she brought to my life now seemed so inadequate. If only I could have a do-over. A huge opportunity was missed.

Shortly thereafter, two of our mutual friends coordinated a Celebration of Life to be held at our local bookstore—the one where she regularly spoke about her latest books. Attending a gathering of remembrance—where friends could share their personal stories about her—sounded like the perfect antidote to my feelings of having fallen short.

As it turned out, it was a cathartic occasion for many of us. Friends from all different aspects of her life attended. Several of us shared happy and funny stories about her, in remembrance of a life well lived. 

I chose to tell the story of the first time my husband and I had dinner with her and her then-husband: In fitting fashion, we had dined together at a local Hispanic restaurant. After dinner, as the four of us walked out to the parking lot, she was surprised to find our vehicles were parked next to each other. I assumed that their car was the sedan parked to the left of ours—but not so!

Their vehicle was the brilliant burnt-orange three-wheeled motorcycle to our right. My husband and I were floored when she donned a shiny color-matched helmet and, with wild abandon, threw her leg over the rear seat to mount the sporty trike behind her husband. It was at that moment that I discovered her true character and passion for life.      

As each member of the audience shared their reflections, we all gained an even richer appreciation for the incredible woman she had been. Moreover, with each additional story, her passionate presence permeated the room. Laughing and sharing a few happy tears together turned out to be the perfect way to wish our beloved friend an eternal bon voyage—or perhaps more appropriately, Adios mi amiga…hasta que mos volamos a encontrar! 

When all was said and done, I truly believed that our beloved friend was right there with us, looking down from above.  Surely, she relished the joyous occasion and now knows just how much she meant to every single one of us.

In closing, my wish for you today is this: May you come to know just how much you are loved before you journey on to that magnificent, better place that awaits you. And may you take every opportunity you have to tell your friends and loved ones—in no uncertain terms—just how much they mean to you.  

~~~

Postscript:

If you’d like to learn more about my departed friend, Dr. Berta Arias, I encourage you to read her delightful book about the ethos of Cubans and Cuban Americans, Mango Rain.