Lorraine

“The song is ended, but the melody lingers on…” – Irving Berlin, American composer

A year ago, my friend Lorraine died unexpectedly.

I still cry about it. A lot. I still think about her. A lot. Her death has been more profound for me than I could have ever possibly imagined.

It was a Sunday night when I got the phone call. I almost didn’t answer because I thought I was being pocket-dialed. My cell phone screen displayed an incoming call from my friend Tim. He was an early riser, and therefore an early sleeper, so there was no reason for him to be calling me at 9:38 p.m.

After the third ring, I picked up.

“Hey Tim, what’s up?” I asked.

“Lisa… there’s been an accident.” He paused. His voice trembled when he started to speak again. “Lorraine is no longer with us…”

My mind is blank as to what transpired next. All I remember hearing after that was the sound of my own voice calling out. 

“No.  …  NO!  …  NOOOO!!!”

Denial.  …  Disbelief.  …  Comprehension. All in a matter of seconds.

My husband Alan came down the stairs to see what the commotion was. Crying uncontrollably, I collapsed into his arms…

***

I met Lorraine about seven or eight years ago through our neighbourhood Running Room.

A year after Alan and I got married, we bought a house in the north end of the city. Some time after settling in, I made the difficult decision to switch my home base for running. Driving clear across the city to the Running Room on 109 Street was getting impractical, especially considering there was another location that was now just five minutes away. So there I went.

I don’t recall ever being formally introduced to Lorraine. And I can’t say that we became fast friends – we were both introverts after all. Instead, our relationship evolved organically. The regularity of short, weekday runs nurtured the beginnings of a friendship that would later be cemented by those treasured long Sunday runs, during which time you really get to know a person.

Lorraine was vibrant, thoughtful, and kind. And so much more. Despite the skills people have graciously ascribed to me as a writer, even I know I’m incapable of capturing Lorraine’s essence. That her death has left such a deep and indelible mark on so many people says more about her character than any words possibly could.

Sometimes it’s hard to believe that a whole year has passed. Sometimes it seems like it was just yesterday. And sometimes, for just a moment, it feels like she’s been away on another one of her well-planned travel adventures, and that I’ll get to hear all about when she’s back next Sunday.

I miss her.

I don’t know why she was taken from us and I still struggle with the unfairness of it. Healthy people aren’t supposed to die young. Parents aren’t supposed to outlive their children. Friends aren’t supposed to be stripped from your life without warning.

I do know that her spirit is among us. I’ve felt it several times, and I know others have, too. I’ve felt Lorraine’s gratitude, her sadness, her care, and her concern. And in those precious moments, it’s like she never left us at all.

For our friend Lorraine – You are so loved and missed.