Brownies and Frownies

I had my first experience with loss this year. The pain of losing a friend I’d had for so long struck when I found out she had stripped herself from this life in a whirlwind of depression and loneliness. Since then, I’ve found myself asking questions like, “how could she leave me?” and, “was there anything I could have done?” more times than I care to admit. It still just doesn’t feel real. After years and years of birthdays and friendship - she is just gone. I look at her picture and can’t believe it. I read the note from her that hangs next to my bed in my dorm room and I imagine her sitting at her little desk next to her vintage typewriter scribing away as she always did. She loved to write. I think she just wanted to end her story early in order to skip through a hard chapter. But she could have kept going. I know she could have. So, then, why?

When I walk around my neighborhood memories of the things we did together pop into my head: getting our eyebrows done for the first time (I cried and she laughed), going to eat sushi at our normal place, walking to make sure her prom dress was properly tailored, leisurely talking and walking around the park for hours (that was our favorite thing to do together), winning softball games, eating froyo at the place that closed down on 3rd street, and so many others that fill my body with a bittersweet ache. Although it hurts to remember them, I think I would be dishonoring her memory not to be joyful about the adventures we had together. So, here we go.

Joy #1

When I was in fourth grade one of the girls on my softball team brought a friend from school to practice, and this friend was a natural. My coach immediately emailed her mom after watching her throw a ball and told her she should be on the team. She joined and we played together for the next six years. Softball gave me my best friend.

Joy #2

When we first started hanging out she was quiet and reserved. I probably talked 100x more than she did, but she didn't mind letting me chatter on about the drama in my young little life. Slowly, though, she began to open up as well. It was a long process, but by eighth grade she was spilling the secrets of her heart to me too. Our friendship consisted of meaningful conversations about school, life goals, hardships, faith, and family. We didn't go to school together and she was a grade ahead of me, so sometimes we would go weeks or even months without seeing each other, but whenever we met up it was like nothing had changed. She needed me and I needed her. It was a friendship that was deep, true, and always genuine.

Joy #3

France - Part 1

When I was thirteen our family went to Europe. One of our stops was in France. Her dad's side of the family is French, so they own a whole castle in the countryside and let us join them for a few days. It's one of the best summer memories I have. We ran around, caught rabbits, went swimming, made a fire and toasted marshmallows, listened to Ariana Grande's new album, “Yours Truly” on repeat, watched breath-taking sunsets, and saw a double rainbow. One of the funniest things we tried to do was braid our hair into one braid. We saw it on Pinterest one day and then spent hours trying to do it to ourselves. Our height difference and lack of ability caused some problems. It was an epic fail.

France - Part 2

One night, she and I decided to stay up and hang out after everyone else had already gone to bed. We slipped on our bathing suits and got the bathtub water running. Before getting in, we realized something was missing. We tiptoed downstairs and into the kitchen. She grabbed the pistachio ice cream (ew) and I grabbed the vanilla (like a normal person). We grabbed two spoons and ran back upstairs, trying not to wake up the rest of the house with our mischievous giggling. We quickly jumped in the tub and spent the rest of the night talking and laughing as we ate our ice cream in our bathing suits.

Joy #4

On my seventeenth birthday, I woke up and realized there was a present sitting next to my bed with a little bow elegantly tied around it. I sat up and unwrapped it. It was a mug with a quote on it. Typical. The poet within her could never resist an inspirational quote. The card was written in her handwriting and signed with her name. I smiled. She had walked to my house before school and given it to my dad for him to leave next to me for when I woke up.

"Happy birthday, sunshine!! I love you."

I love you, too.

My dad and my brother have a nightly routine of reading together and then sharing the "brownies and frownies" of their day. The brownie of the day is the best part, and the frowny is the part that wasn't so great. I love that they do this because it's so easy to just focus on the frownies, but when you start practicing recognizing the brownies as well, your day gets a little better. Remembering the joys even in the midst of your sadness is the same idea. I miss her everyday, but I'm thankful for the brownies that help me honor her memory.

Keep track of your brownies.

Remember,

be strong & courageous.

xo.

Flannery Grace