Reunions matter. Yes, they do.

Four years and a few weeks ago, a high school friend passed away. Here’s my last contact with her, an email. I changed the names, except for mine. 

June 10, 2009

16:20

From: Ann

To: Mary, Wendy, Donna

CC: Maureen, Sheila

Subject: Fun lunch

I just had a great surprise as Maureen Mullins and Sheila Marie came to visit. They still look like it's 1978!!

Anyway, they would love to do lunch. Who has an afternoon free?

Let me know! 

Lotsa love,

Ann

P.S. It would be held at Casa d’ Ann. Hopefully out on the patio....

Sent from my iPhone

Ann wrote that email propped up in a hospital bed,  surrounded by stuffed animals, photo albums, and all the other important things she needed around her during her last few weeks. Ann’s “casa” was a hospice.

“Sheila” and I sat a distance away, and exchanged eyebrow messages while Ann typed. The two of us had  been visiting with her for close to an hour at that point, and had started getting up to leave because we could see she was worn down.

But when we talked about visiting again, she’d perked up, had sort of sat up even. Her eyes, weary slits, got luminous and large, like the old days, when our class of 222 gave her a yearbook award for them.

She’d laughed in her sharp unbridled staccato. She motioned to her husband, who was inches from her bed, to hand her the iphone. She asked us to repeat our email addresses. She wanted to make sure they were accurate. She wanted to make sure she kept in touch.

In the parking lot, before we got into our cars, S and I cried a little and talked about how quickly time passes. Then as I drove home, I started wondering about stupid things. I wondered what I’d find when I got home and checked my mail. I expected to find gibberish. Lots of typos.

You can see she did a super job.  You can see my brain hadn’t processed a heck of a lot at that point.

Another friend in the email group, “Mary,” one of Ann’s closest friends since kindergarten, assumed planning duties on Ann’s behalf.  After that initial email, Ann did not participate in our group discussion, but the rest of us sent lots of emails back and forth, picking dates and times and discussing who else to include.

Then the inevitable inevitably occurred. Ann passed away about two weeks after that June 10 email. Our mini-reunion never happened.

I saved that email on purpose. I wanted a reminder that life moves fast.

Also, I was taking a class at Grub Street, the writers’ workshop place in Boston, during that time. I couldn’t shake the memory of that note from my brain, and thought maybe writing about it would help me come to terms with the loss.

I wrote a story that started with that email, and then continued with the sad tale of how our elaborately planned reunion never materialized. It was a really crappily written story and it got torn apart with great vigor at my workshop. Until today, I hadn’t looked at the story or the email in years. It still sucks. All of it.

A group of us are planning our thirty-fifth high school reunion. We met for the first time last month. We  spent some of our meeting time talking about Ann, and the five other friends from our class who passed away too soon. We also spent some time touring our old school and talking about good times, when our biggest issues involved zits and polyester uniforms. 

When we first met that evening, in the lobby of our old school, I remember thinking, “Well, we’ve changed I guess.”

We have a few laugh lines now all of us, tiny little creases at our eyes. One of us uses a wheelchair. Some of us are single parents. One is caring for an ill spouse. All of us have seen old dreams die and new realities emerge.

And yet, E. has the same smile she did when I knew her back in kindergarten. S. still knows how to work that gorgeous blonde hair. K. a cross country runner way back when, is running further now than he ever did in high school. M. is as full of gratitude and cheer as he was back when he wore suit coats with wide lapels, and R is still as funny as hell.

I left thinking that except for a couple of gray hairs maybe we haven’t changed all that much.

A few days after we met, we got the news that another classmate was near death. It happened suddenly, an accident in his backyard. He’s in critical condition but recovering now.

I can’t shake this feeling that time is just moving a little too fast.

We’re in the process of getting in touch with as many classmates as we can.  I hope we can reach everyone. It would be wonderful if everyone could find a way to come. Life’s too short.