The Promise

December 4, 2017. I knew this day was coming, I knew it for a while but even with the knowledge I’m heartsick.

My friend, my “sista” Janette passed early this morning. She was suffering with cancer but putting on a very brave positive front for her family and for her friends. Late at night she would call me and tell me how frightened she was and then we’d cry. I wouldn’t let her know that tears were streaming down my face because she needed to let her emotions come out and not try to make me feel better. That’s what Janette was like, always helping others and making them feel better.

A few months ago Janette and I were on the phone one late evening and she told me I needed to make a promise to her. I asked what she wanted me to do. She told me to keep her alive after her death. She told me to write about her, to tell all the stories, laughs, and tears we shared. I’ve written about Janette before and she loved seeing her name in my blog. She’d laugh and hoot with her little southern accent which always made me laugh.

So I promised Janette I’d continue to talk about her in my blog. She said she wanted me to do it for me as well as for her. She made me promise not to forget her. I won’t.

There were a few other promises too. She told me I had to stay friends with her wonderful caring friend, Libby. She made me swear to continue to lean on, support, and love our friend, Cathy. She told me to write of her love for Daryl Hall and how he looked at her and smiled when she went to a Hall & Oates concert a few years back.

“I promise you, I promise you, Janette, I will write it all down.”

I want to thank her friend, Libby, for all the phone calls, the Facebook messages, and the texts she’s sent me and Cathy to make sure we were aware of everything that was going on as Janette became weaker and weaker.

Maybe five or six weeks ago Libby visited Janette in the hospice and Libby called me so I could speak with Janette for the last time. Janette knew who I was and told me how much she loved me and asked me to tell Cathy that she loved her too. She was weak and couldn’t speak for more than a minute or two but I will remember those last two minutes I spent on the phone with her.

Even though I’ve written about her before this is a new beginning. I am going to be writing about my “sista” Janette. It doesn’t matter if anyone else reads these entries or not because I am doing it for myself. I will keep Janette alive for me.