Can't Find My Way Home

May 19, 2009

Today was the memorial service for my friend Jennifer Hoffman. It feels strange to refer to her that way since she has always been just Jen for as long as I have known her. Her battle with cancer, one she had been winning for seven years, came to a bitter fight Easter weekend and ended on April 21, 2009. She was my high school friend, part of a group of us, fiercely loyal and true. Most of us stayed geographically close, but Jen ventured to Phoenix. I would see her yearly as Bryan’s business trips would take us there, but I have missed my annual visits for the past two years. I am not going to say that I regret not seeing her during these last two years of her life because 1), I never thought she would die and 2) she never thought she would either. Our last dinner together ended with a toast with chocolate martinis-her request-a strange one since she was always calorie conscience. She was radiant with accomplishment, having just run the Rock and Roll Marathon that day, and bursting with love, sitting beside her fiancé, whom I met for the first time that night. I like remembering her that way, sitting across from me, eyes happy and lazy with alcohol, smiling ear to ear. Six months later, I texted her from New Orleans because the group I was with had just ordered a round of chocolate martini’s and I could not drink mine without toasting her.

One month after that, I emailed her from Santa Fe, New Mexico, where she and Greg were married that past spring. She said to have a chocolate martini for her and that her cancer was back.

I thought today’s service would bring closure but somehow it just made things feel so real, so sad. I said to one of my closest friends that sometimes the benefit of having experienced deep grief is that it somehow prepares you to survive future grief. It does not make it easier, but somehow it helps the perspective.

I miss her in a way I didn’t expect to. The song (Eric Clapton, I think), "Can’t Find My Way Home," must have been on a mix tape in Jen’s blue Toyata, circa 1989. Anytime I hear it I think of her. The lyrics to the song seem a little ironic now. Jen was never too wasted to find her way home, she just found home in other places, something I admire about her. She held the key.

Jen’s blog (laceupyourgloves. blogspot.com) inspired me and her comments enriched my writing. I thought she should have a shout out in Nori and Charlie’s blog because her spirit helped us through those rough first months and continues to remind me about the things that really matter.