My best friend just lost her mother.
We've been the closest of friends for 17 years now, had countless sleepovers, gone on boocoodles of drives, had lots of picnics and Mrs. Denise was there for many a one of them: asking if we were buckled, making sure that we packed napkins and butter knives for the picnic, checking to make sure that we had enough covers and pillows, urging us that we NEEDED breakfast every morning, rolling her eyes at how much chocolate we ate, reminding us to feed the dog before leaving, and a hundred other little things to keep us safe and comfortable. She was a great planner, and she encouraged us to plan well also, but that isn't the main thing that stands out in my mind.
Mrs. Denise was one of the best friends that I have ever met (no wonder she raised mine). She was soft-spoken, always trying to speak with kindness and encourage those around her to bring their cares to the Lord. She had a genuine interest in people and their troubles. Many times I would call their home phone to speak to Brianna to hear that she wasn't there, but the conversation wouldn't end there. She would start asking me how I had been doing, and treat me like her very own friend, and not just her daughter's. She would encourage me to look on the bright side, give people the benefit of the doubt, and try to put yourself in their shoes. Harsh, would never be a word to describe her. Caring, would. She cared about us, for us, and taught us to care as well.
My best friend lost her mom. I lost a friend.
