That’s What Friends Are For
On the other side of this nation, a man lives in a state that I have never visited.
This man and I, we have never looked into each other’s eyes and smiled at a secret joke that only close friends share. We’ve never talked on the phone, or had dinner together with our families. We’ve never stopped by each other’s places for a cup of coffee or offered to watch each other’s children.
Still, we are friends. Not close in the way that most people define “close,” of course.
Every few days, we take the time to read about each other’s lives, offer support when needed and encouragement when appropriate. This is what binds us. And this, in my mind, is enough for a friendship to be real.
Jason’s life, in so many ways, is a lot like mine.
We have spouses.
We have children.
We have siblings.
We have responsibilities, obligations, joy, laughter and a strong sense of treating other people with kindness and compassion.
We are also different in many ways. Most of those ways don’t matter to me, save that they might actually make me like Jason a little more.
There is one difference between the two of us, though, that does matter to me.
My mother is alive and Jason’s is not.
Jason lost his mother to breast cancer in 1996.
As a general rule, I try to put myself in other people’s shoes all the time.
How would I feel? What would I do if I were this person? How would I want another person to support me?
In this case, I am not comfortable doing this.
But, I will.
Because Jason is my friend, and that’s what friends do for one another.
If I had lost my mother to breast cancer over a decade ago, I would miss her every single day until the day I died.
I would push back tears every single time I had to mention her to someone.
I would wish with all my might that she were here to watch my kids graduate from high school, college, maybe even see them get married.
I would feel inadequate when I tried to describe who she was to my children who had never met her.
I would feel anger, guilt and unbearable sadness.
I would become a person who had to try to be happy because my mother’s absence would make something that should feel natural feel just that more forced.
I would wonder why this had to happen.
I would want to know how I could have stopped this.
I would look around for ways that I could stop this from happening to other women, to other families.
I would find an organization like Susan G. Komen, dedicated to educating communities about breast cancer prevention that worked not only on a local level, but on an international level, to raise awareness.
I would begin to understand that one of the best ways to stop this from happening again to someone else, maybe even to my own daughter, would be to support an organization like this.
I would commit myself to helping this organization.
I would sleep on the ground in a tent even though I abhor the thought of sleeping outside.
I would want my friends to support me through that.
I’m not saying that’s how Jason feels. I’m saying if I were Jason, that’s how I would feel.
I know that this is what I would want and also who I would want to be.
Jason is my friend, and I’m supporting him because that’s what I would want.
Please CLICK HERE to support my friend Jason if you feel so inclined. No amount is too small.
18 Responses to That’s What Friends Are For
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My grandmother is a breast cancer survivor, over six years now. (I want to say eight, but I’m not quite sure.) I feel so fortunate that she is with us still, and yet so sad for the many, many people lost. I know the pain that the C word can inflict; my grandfather is fighting stage four cancer in his hip, liver, lung, and spine. I also know the strength, though; he never stops smiling or laughing.
I wish we could make it go away, forever. Knowing that my grandfather will most likely not beat this just tears me apart.
I would want those same things, too. Thanks for posting this, Faiqa.
@Elizabeth Kaylene, Oh, honey, I am sorry to hear about your grandfather. He’s in my prayers, as are you.
My grandfather died of cancer 12 years ago. He was diagnosed in the last stage. I saw him suffer in pain for the whole 1 year. Its really sad to see what people go through because of cancer. I wish someone finds the cure for cancer soon.
Your post is very touching. Thanks for writing. Your writings always inspire me.
@Deepa Agrawal, Thank you for bravely sharing your thoughts, experiences and your compliments on this blog, Deepa. People like you make writing it truly worthwhile.
@Deepa Agrawal, I’m sorry about your grandfather.
I’ve seen too many women affected by this horrible disease. Some have survived and some have not. You’re a great friend, Faiqa.
@Coal Miner’s Granddaughter, Some people make it easy to look up to them… they make you *want* to be their friend, you know? Yeah. *You* know.
what a beautiful post about your friend — and a testament to your love for your friends and family, faiqa. jason sounds like a wonderful man; his mother raised a set of compassionate and amazing men, it sounds like.
i recently made a new friend; i met him in december, only a month or two after his mother had died from breast cancer, too. in the last few months, as i’ve gotten to know him more, i, too, think often of what it must be like to lose one’s mother so young, and from such a vicious disease as cancer. it has made me look at my own mother more and think about how much i want her — and myself, and all the women i know, and even those i don’t know — to have some awareness of breast cancer as well as knowledge of preventative measures.
jason, and the susan g. komen organization, have a new supporter, and i thank you for the push, faiqa.
@yasmine, <—This people? Is as “rock star” as it gets.
I just don’t even know what to say. This post sums up a) How I sometimes feel about blog friendships, and b) How I feel about losing my mother, and c) How I feel about doing the Komen For the Cure walk and raising money for it.
You,Faiqa, along with Yasmine (whom I have never met nor read but assume she is related to you), YOU are as “rock star” as it gets.
By the way, Native Born readers, Faiqa and Yasmine both made seriously generous donations to my fund. I am beyond thankful.
And thank you for this incredible post.
@Jason, Guess what?! Yasmine, despite sharing my last name, is not related to me (well, I don’t think, although our shared utter coolness might suggest so) and interestingly resides in *your* neck of the woods. She, like you is a BLOG friend, how cool is that? Ain’t the Internet grand.
And this actually makes her so much more of a rock star for her generosity. You are very welcome on both counts, and I wish you the best, best, BEST of luck with both raising the funds and completing the walk.
good post.
ive actually dont some volunteer work for the Susan G. Komen foundation.
@Slyde, OK, seriously, this blogging stuff can be verrry weird, I was LITERALLY just thinking about you and your blog at almost the exact moment you left this comment. And I was hoping you didn’t feel like you were in some sort of Internet version of those people asking you for money outside of the grocery store if you read this. Heh.
Jason rocks.
Need to get on donating. I forgot! I suck.
jason,
as faiqa mentioned, she and i have never met either, can you believe it? =) we, too, know each other only via the internetS, which is yet another reason why i love online spaces like these.
you are so very welcome re. the donation. i was honored to support in the small way i could. thank YOU for the inspiration.
This was very nice. You’re a great friend.
You are a very kind person. The mention of cancer strikes such fear into our hearts. I have lost three close friends to breast cancer. One of them was only 40 and died within 6 months of the initial diagnosis. I think I am still in shock about it because it was so quick and the sense of powerlessness I felt was paralyzing. I look out for my friend’s daughters as much as I can but I can never be the way their mother was. It just can never be the same for them. That breaks my heart. I will certainly make a donation.
Thank you for supporting my friend. Your post was beautiful and made me cry.