Saying Goodbye to Glo

The Three Musketeers.  That's what we've been for the last three years.  Glo, John and I.  We do everything together, and the thing that Glo said she would miss the most?  Sitting on the couch between us at night, watching TV.

This week, I dropped Glo off at BYU to start her undergraduate journey.  It might have been less painful if someone had just reached inside my chest and ripped out my heart.  Everyone keeps telling me that it's going to be hard because I won't have any kids at home anymore, but I can say with certainly that it's going to be hard because I won't' have GLO at home anymore.

Glo's and my special relationship started seven years ago when I broke my ankle.  Ethan was on his mission, and Mark and Hannah were at Interlochen.  John was at work all day and building a pond at night.  Glo was everything to me.  She would fetch me anything I needed.  She raised puppies, and she did everything necessary to take care of them.  She helped me in and out of our car and brought my scooter from the trunk to my door (even though it might have actually weighed as much as she did).  She made food for us.  And most importantly, she made sure that I was never alone.  I had to sleep in the recliner with my foot elevated, so she would sleep on the love seat next to me.  We spent those weeks reading books together and just talking.  She did it all.  I seriously can't think of much during that time without thinking of Glo.

And she never really stopped doing all of that for me.  For the past seven years, she has continued to be my right hand girl, helping me especially when my back is unable to lift anything.  She runs errands for me when I don't want to get back out in the car again.  She takes care of the animals.  She brings us cheese, turkey and crackers when we sit down to watch a movie together.  She helps me drive a moving truck from PA to Michigan, full of boxes that she packed herself.  She and I have been making the weekly drive to Philadelphia the longest (seven years), and neither of us feels like it should be ending.  She even still loves to take naps with me in the living room.

Glo is my dear friend.  I can't imagine my life without her, even the bad times.  She makes my life richer.

So we drove out to ugly old Utah, and as I looked around, I had this feeling that I was dropping off  my most precious possession in a pile of poop.  Utah is so ugly, and the people there just aren't our kind of people.  She doesn't know the roads, or the area, or feel any affinity for the place at all.  And yet, as she said multiple times with sadness and frustration in her expression, Michigan just doesn't have the program that she wants.

I know that she's ready for this next step.  She's ready to be challenged.  But I'm not.  With a house full of stuff that's not unpacked, and an area where I don't know a soul, losing my dear friend isn't exactly what I want to happen.  I think of how she constantly flips her hair out of her face.  I think of the drawings I find all over the house.  I think of how much the cats love her.  I think of her sitting at the kitchen table, reading some digital comic, drinking her cranberry juice and eating a Pop-Tart. I remember us finding Pokemon together...and getting interviewed by the local TV station.  And I always know it's a good time for a nap when I find her with some blanket wrapped around her head...which I won't find anymore.  And I think of her hugging me when she knows that I'm having a really bad time.  And I think of none of that here anymore, and I just want to curl up in a ball and cry.  In fact, I may have already done that a couple of times.

And she's not here to give me a hug.  Yep, I sure miss Glo.