When other friendships are soon forgot, ours will still be hot

I often speak of my oldest friend and traveling partner, but my mother had one of her own.  Her name was Joyce, Auntie Joyce as I was raised to call her.  It was years before I realized Joyce was not related to me. 

 

Mama and Joyce grew up together and shared a strong bond of friendship throughout their lives, even though their walks in life took them down very different paths. 

• Joyce married a man with a successful, prolific career.  My mother married a man who worked as a civil servant and thought he was rich if he had $10 in his pocket.  Both women loved their husbands, and their husbands loved their wives.
• Mama worked as a telephone operator for 30 years to help support her family.  Joyce did not need to work, but spent countless hours volunteering.  Each woman found fulfillment in what they did.
• Joyce lived in a modern home in the New Orleans suburbs.  Mama lived in an old, crowded house in an industrial neighborhood in Hattiesburg.
• Joyce belonged to a supper club and ate at fine restaurants all over New Orleans.  Mama cooked and carried many meals to pot-luck suppers.  Neither woman ever went hungry.
• Mama found enjoyment playing Bingo.  Joyce found enjoyment playing bridge.
• Joyce bought new cars.  Mama bought her used ones. 
• Joyce was tall and slender and refined.  Mama was a little less than average height, not slender, and only dressed up for special occasions.
• Joyce was well read.  Mama did not go to high school.

With so many differences, how did these two women stay so close all their lives?  I guess it was because they shared the same beginnings, and they saw each other with their hearts and not their eyes.  They saw the souls beyond the bodies and the pocketbooks.

I, for one, am very glad they did remain friends, because through their friendship I learned the value of keeping a lifelong friend.  I also got to go on trips with them, and listen to their teasing and gossip and heartfelt talks.  When they were together it was as if they had never been apart.  Isn’t that the mark of a true friend?

Joyce died earlier this week, and my sister, brother, niece, and I went to her funeral yesterday.  I went because I wanted to go, I loved Auntie Joyce.  But I also went because I knew my mother would be there in spirit, and I always want to share space with her spirit.  

One of Joyce’s daughters was with her constantly in her last days and told us how Joyce began to see and notice things not visible to anyone else.  It reminded me of my daddy’s last hours when he did the same thing.  I can’t help but wonder if Mama was there with her, holding open a curtain to the light and urging her “come on, the car is gassed and ready, let’s go!”

For a moment I think I might have heard them together at the back of the chapel, mocking just a little.  “Mary Ann, can you believe what she’s wearing?”  “Oh, hush Ugly.  I saw you wear the same outfit a week ago”.