(I visited our new residents this morning, they speak to me of life)

I wrote about her the other day, a valued friend who I drove away when she needed me the most. I called it a mistake that cannot be undone, a reference my friend’s mother made to her daughter, who, like many of us,  had also made some mistakes that could not be undone.

You can see the piece I wrote about this mistake here.

It was a serious mistake, and I acknowledge it and regret it and have learned from it. I cannot make decisions for other people, any more than other people can make them for me.

When I learned she was in hospice, I felt great pain for her, and some for me. I’ve been a hospice volunteer for some years and visited scores, if not hundreds, of dying people. Here, a close friend could use this help, and I was nowhere around. I will be working on that for awhile.

Last week, I went to see my friend, and we were glad to see each other and the trouble we had just melted away in the power of the moment. There was real love there, and real connection, it survived my own obliviousness, and  her own stubbornness.

Last year, I felt she had locked herself into a self-destructive and even dangerous position in her life, and I tried to shock her into responding to it before it was too late. I urged her to get help and said it was impossible for me to watch her ruin her life in this way. That was true, I just couldn’t do it.

She got angry and defensive – interventions aren’t like the movies –  and we pulled back from each other. She had done as much as she could do at that time.

As it happened, it was already too late, she was diagnosed with terminal cancer at the same time she was suddenly no longer comfortable talking with me.

We lost touch with one another until her mother, an exceptionally loving and empathetic human being, contacted me to say my friend was now in hospice, and was dying. She wanted to see me.

For years, we had a close and meaningful relationship, it was bounded and full of mutual affection. I did worry about her relationship with her husband, it had deteriorated rapidly and alarmingly.

But was it my business?

I had no idea how sick she was, and my heart sank at the realization that she had suffered greatly – her chemotherapy, said her mother, nearly killed her – and I had been of no help.

I saw her a few days ago, perhaps on the very last day in which she was coherent and able to have visitors. I saw she was failing very rapidly, she was emaciated and almost incoherent.

I was acutely aware of the irony – I took what was for me a drastic step to help her, and in the process, made it impossible for me to help her. So much for hubris and arrogance.

I intended to come and visit her every day – she lives about an hour away – but she is no longer able to do that, and seems to be slipping into a state of delirium and confusion I recognize all too well from my hospice volunteer work.

Her mother and I just talked this morning and I doubt I will be seeing her again on this side of the world. I might be wrong, I am no doctor or nurse, but my wish for her and her family is a peaceful and comfortable end to a time of great suffering.

Once again, I wonder if we are not torturing people and causing needless suffering rather than accepting life and death.

This is not about me, but her. I am grateful we got to see and hold and hug each other at least one more time, and return our friendship to its long and rightful place.

I wish her mother peace and acceptance, she did listen to me – I am learning to tread gently – and called hospice in for more help. She will need it. So will my friend.

Pain is perhaps the greatest teacher in life, this has gotten my attention and comprehension in a particular way.

I can’t do anything more for my friend, but I can work to improve and face the truth about myself. I am not into beating myself up – drama has never done much for me –  but I am committed to learning and growing and changing.

Several good people have messaged me to say I am being too hard on myself, I was just trying to help, and I might, in fact, have been correct in my worries. I appreciate their good wishes, but the point isn’t whether I was right or wrong.

My mistake, which was  quite real, was in assuming I had the power or wisdom to demand another person make critical decisions about their life that they are unwilling or unable to make.

If you give that kind of advice, you must also put no strings on it  – they can take it or leave it without judgment or penalty. She paid a price for my mistake, and thankfully, we were granted a few hours to make it better.

I thank my merciful angels.

But I can’t take the easy way out, and let myself off the hook. Not yet.