For the past 29 years, I really thought growing up would come in the form of a birthday, or maybe a relationship, or possibly some career- or family- or health-related event. Instead, it's been with me everywhere I've gone these past few weeks, and it looks very different than I thought it would.
There is nothing right or normal or understandable about any girl dealing with the pain of her mother's illness since she was in junior high, and becoming completely parentless the month she turns 30. I guess it's even harder to swallow when that girl is someone I know well and love deeply.
For seven years, I've wondered if I was supposed to be angry or guilty or sad about this situation, because heaven knows I've experienced all those emotions plus some during this rich, full, life-changing friendship with sweet Jane. I wish I'd already had the great epiphany that is bound to show me what to feel now that my dear friend is preparing to bury virtually her last remaining family member, but I haven't. All I know for certain is that I can't take my mind off her, but maybe I'm not supposed to. Maybe it's good to be constantly reminded that she needs her friend, despite the angry, guilty, sad, contemplative or otherwise seemingly wrong feelings that are stirring inside of rebekah that day.
Adulthood. And so it is.