by Jan McDaniel
I'm thinking about attending my 40th class reunion this year. A lifetime has gone by for us since we graduated in 1974.
My college roommate and I met for lunch recently and talked about going. She was passing through a nearby city and wondered if we could get together. It was a great opportunity to renew an old friendship, so we took a three-hour lunch to catch each other up on our lives. We shared pictures of our grandchildren, told each other what we wanted to do next in our lives, bragged on our grown kids and other family members. It was easy though we hadn't seen each other for years. We agreed that neither of us looked old and the pleasant waitress agreed.
My "roomie" knew about my husband's death. Letters and emails had traveled between us occasionally. She had known him back then and now marveled, the way everyone who knew him had done, that he could have ended his life. No one could have known. She remembered his gentle nature and kindness. He had that in common with the boy she met and married the same summer we were wed.
I'm thankful that she still has her sweetheart with her. We're all a little heavier now, not quite so energetic, and going grey. But that's okay. We couldn't recall many names from school at first, but over the next few days we sent random emails back and forth as stray memories returned. Some of our classmates had passed away. We were not sure of others.