Misty Forest

A  friend of mine is dying.  She is a veteran teacher-colleague of mine that is also a lifelong friend.  Along with four others, we began our teaching careers at roughly the same time.  We were young, fresh from the 60s and looking to teach social sciences classes in new and challenging ways.
Along with countless meetings, curriculum writing sessions, conferences, and Department get-togethers, there were times when we were all just there for each other for relationship issues, family emergencies, and all manner of difficulties adult life can offer.
I would like to visit this friend.  But living about 700 miles away presents problems.  But I can write and was urged to do just that.  She likes cards.  She would like to receive cards.  I can do that.
About 2 weeks ago I sent a card.  This morning I intended to do the same.

     I looked at the "misty forest" portrayed on the front of the card.  Staring at the blank page inside I experienced a rare feeling: not knowing what to say, or quite how to say it.  These are difficult messages to write because it's hard not to be trite and it is crucial to be appropriate.  But what is appropriate for writing to a person that is dying.
Some things are.
I began by telling her that I was aware that she is home and in hospice care.  Then I simply told her that I'd been thinking a lot lately about the decades we taught side by side.  I always knew that working with a genuinely collaborative group of people was rare and advantageous, but that now, looking back I can see things even clearer.  I can appreciate that camaraderie for what it really is.
And what is that?
It is saying "although I am not near, I am with you now."  And meaning it.