Death and loss have a way of following my adopted daughter Penny wherever she goes.  I knew that she would have plenty of emotional baggage with her when she flew across the country to come live with me, but I naively believed I could shield her from any new tragedies.

I learned my lesson fast. 

About two weeks after Penny's arrival, she & I were walking the dog when a little girl came running out of her house.  She was Penny's first friend.

"Penny! Penny!"  She gave Penny a hug and begged for her to stay and play.

"Do you know this kid?" I asked.

"Yes.  This is Marla.  She's in my class."

(Okay, what do I say now?  Oh yeah...) 

 I turned to Marla.  "Is your mom home?"  

"Yeah. Mommmmm!  Mommmm!!"

And out came Ellen.  My first mom friend.

Ellen agreed that Penny should stay and play.  "Oh my god." I gushed.  "That would be great. Penny just came to live with me and I haven't been home alone, and it's been really rough and  yes, oh my, can she? Can she stay and play?  Now how does this work?  Do you want to call me when it's time for me to come get her?  Or should I just come back at a certain time?"

I was a fish out of water and an emotional wreck and there was no denying it.

So Penny stayed with Marla and I skipped back to my EMPTY house and took a nap.

Ellen called later and said that she would like to take the girls to a high school play that evening.  They would have dinner, go to the show and Ellen would drive her home afterwards.

(Well, I don't even know this person, but...)

"Yeah, sure!  Are you sure?  Do you mind?"

Penny soon spent several other afternoons at Marla's house, and then asked if she could sleepover.  I didn't think it was a good idea.  Penny was prone to nightmares, some potty problems, tantrums, etc.

But I needed a respite.  So I guiltily let her. 

The next morning, Ellen and Marla walked Penny home.  Ellen took me aside and wanted to talk privately.

(I feel sick.  What happened?  What did she do?  I KNEW I shouldn't have let her...)

"Caroline, there's something I think I should tell you."

Long pause.

"I'm dying.  I have cancer.  Most of the other moms know but you're new and well, the doctors say I have less than a year."

(Are you fucking kidding me?!  My kid has terrifying flashbacks about the night her father died, and now she makes her first friend and what the fuck is up with this kid?  Why can't she catch a goddamn break??!!!  What the hell am I supposed to do now?!)

"Oh, Ellen, I'm so sorry..."

"I hate to put you on the spot like this.  I know there's nothing for you to say but I just thought you should know. Penny told Marla about her dad dying and well, I wonder if maybe there's a reason they came together.  Maybe they can help each other.  Marla really likes Penny."

This story is probably too complicated for a post, because MANY things happened between Ellen, Penny and I after that.  

Here's how it ended:

Ellen died.  But not for two and a half more years.  She was a fighter, and I don't say that lightly.  Marla and Penny are still close, and yes, they do have a special bond.

But a lot of shit went down in the meantime.

Ellen was a force to be reckoned with.  

One morning, for example,  she announced that she didn't want Penny to walk to school with Marla ever again.  Even though there is only one path to school.  Even though Marla clearly lit up when Penny approached her.  Ellen explained that Penny had hurt Marla's feelings.  She then went on to say things about Penny that just weren't true.  She made it sound like Penny should be outcasted from her social group and that all the other moms we knew agreed with her.

I was furious!  I went home and cried and cursed Ellen.  Repeatedly.  Then I called the school social worker and some other moms.  I learned to my great relief that Ellen was exaggerating about Penny.  That afternoon I made Penny call Marla to apologize for the hurt feelings incident.  Marla begged Penny to come over, but I said "not today."

The next day, Ellen apologized to me.  Afterwards it dawned on me what was happening:  Ellen was trying to settle her daughter's affairs.  She was trying to hurry up and fix everything she thought might need fixing in her daughter's life before she left.  And it was okay to be mad at how she went about it, and it was okay to argue with her and defend my kid (which I did), because in the end, we were just two moms struggling to do our best for our kids.

Then life took some more interesting turns, and even though Ellen and I were never close and sometimes at odds, in the end, I was there for her in a really important way.

I videotaped her telling her life story for her children.  Miraculously, we finished the many hours of taping (Ellen was a talker) while she still looked and sounded like herself.  But she was going downhill fast the day I brought the completed DVD's for her to watch.  

I ended up staying for ten hours.  

She was in and out of consciousness and reviewing her life along with the healthier looking woman on the tv.  Frequently, she would ask me to pause it and then she would talk to me about her regrets, her fears, her beliefs about what was waiting for her on the other side, her hopes for her children.  

I was deeply changed by this experience, in part because of our differences and that we weren't close.  I can't describe how that day affected me without sounding cliche.  I will just say that I feel more of a connection to the moms, no, to the people that I pass by on the street.  I am less judgmental.  I am even easier on myself.

But now it's time to talk about Penny.  

By the time I came home that long day, I knew Ellen probably wouldn't be alive much more than a week.  It was time to tell Penny that Ellen was dying.

I told her.  I answered her questions.  She cried and I comforted her.  Then the first thing Penny said was, "I want to go see her."

I took a deep breath.  Ellen was in hospice at home.  I pictured her in her bed, green and gaunt and barely recognizable.  I explained this to Penny.

"I want to see her."

I told Penny that she could change her mind at any time, that she could even peek into Ellen's room if she wanted, and then decide to just go play with Marla.  She nodded.

But I was wrong.  The day we got there, the hospital bed was ten steps inside the front door and there was Ellen propped up and facing us as we walked in.

I froze.

(She looks horrific, and poor Penny and oh god, I never should have brought her here, I'm a terrible mother...)

Penny zoomed right over to Ellen and took  her hand.  The two of them talked quietly together for several minutes.  Then they hugged and Penny went to look for Marla.

And Penny was deeply changed by this experience in a way I can't really describe without sounding cliche.  Her daddy's death had been a violent mysterious event that she re-played in flashbacks.  Now, the flashbacks are gone.  Penny was able to see the peace in dying, the inevitability of it.  She was able to say goodbye.  

Mother's Day is a loaded time of year for me and Penny, for Marla and Ellen.  It reminds me of love and longing in all of its imperfect forms.