When I was a young teenager I met Jane. She first was a substitute teacher at highschool but that didn't make much of an impression on me. somehow we both went to this conference together and a long friendship began. She loved me. She hugged me and told me I was perfect and that it was not okay that I was neglected and abused. She bought ulcer meds for me when the mother would not. She listened to me as I began to learn to speak and share. She taught me it was okay to be alive. She taught me my body was perfect and how to swim in her river in the nude. She showed me many shades of grey. She saw the anger dance in my eyes eventhough I had been taught to have a poker face to stay safe she saw my eyes. She took me to my abortion when I was 19 and date raped. She came when i was married in a Unitarian ministers back yard. She held my beautiful children. She hugged me. She always understood. She sat with me for hours by her old wood stove in the kitchen while I sat in the "lion" chair. We sat on her porch and talked for hours and hours. I fell asleep with such a sense of safety and love in her home. One time when I was 18 we were at her sister in laws home and there was a doll house with lights in it and it was love to me. I watched that doll house and I watched my Jane with her long once red hair down in her nightie sit on my bed and talk for hours and just love me. She was the first person to ever tuck me into bed. I was almost 19. She skied on the farm with me and took me to a nature conservancy when I was a teen for a week of adventure. She hugged me tight so I felt smushed. I moved 250 mo=iles away from her and our lives moved on. Her house burned down, her husband was sick, they rebuilt, hubby got better. When Hubby was sick my Nicole died and I was angry that she didn't come for me. I forgave her because she needed to be with hubby. We spoke every few months on the phone. Yesterday, after an exhausting day I had wriiten a post about my Nanny and it made me miss my Jane. She was my connection, a safe one to my childhood. I called Jane and her husband answered and I said " Hi b, how are you? How are you liking the new house?'' He acted as though he didn't hear and I repeated. "He sad oh my you don't know do you?" I said what, and he told me that my Jane died september 16th of an anyorism. He found her in the bathroom, she had been dead for 2 1/2 hours. No one thought to call me. He said there were easily 300 people filling anauditorium for her memorial. I said:'I don't understand her dead B" I said how? He said they didn't know either. She was only 70. I cried quietly on the phone with him, spoke about my love and her gifts. I said something about he was sick and he was older and I apologized. My Jane has been gone for 6 weeks and I didn't even feel it. I hung up the phone from speaking with him and started screaming sobbing uncontrollably. How can she be dead? How can I not know? My husband came running up and held me as I screamed and sobbed. I found a hat she made me and put it on. I called 2 friends before I found one that could drive me 250 miles to be there today. I called my brother who is a sergent at the sherriffs office and yelled at him, why didn't he tell me? He knew we were friends. He said he knew her and had known as the entire community did that she had died, but didn't remember we were friends. I spoke with him about our relationship and then that got into childhood abuse stuff and his desire for me to have contact with the parents. He told me he did not remember a lot of the things I did. He asked if I would come if the parents died? I asked if he would want me to? He said yes. I said so then I would go. I have 8 siblings. He told me the father was on oxygen. I said no surprise there. He said they are old and did the best they could. I said it didn't matter because they were toxic for me and I had to not have contact to stay emotionally safe. We hung up at 2:30 a.m. My friend came at 7:45 and picked me up. I looked like I had been a punching bag from all of the crying. We began the journey. My friend stopped at this place for these wind design things and as I was bored and tense and sad I walked around and I found a little statue of a child and a dog. I got it and worte in Marx a lot on the bottom about her. We drove to her river where the water was probably 38' and I got naked and stepped into the water and remembered our time there. I cried, I froze, I cried. I placed the child and dog against a tree. She is in an urn in the house. I am not okay with that but I am not her family. So the river is my spot. I drove to the home and no one was there. I peaked into a window and saw that this new home looked like her too. We drove to the newspaper place and they gave me the paper with her obituary in it and told me to go to the library for other papers they didn't have to get copies of articles on her. I found three. She was well loved and very active in her community. The library lady told me to meet her at 4:00 and she would give me a bunch of the local daily papers so I could get other articles out of them. We drove to my brother's home and he was very cool at first but then eventually invited us in and I met his 3rd wife, she seemed nice. Living in an old farm house. Redoing it. We drove to the library and met the lady, got the papers and then I called my sister who met us for an early dinner. She looks like the mother. I told her that, I think it hurt her feelings. I hugged her goodbye and told her I loved her. We drove back to the house and no one was home. I fell asleep almost immediately and slept for an hour. We got home about midnight and I have looked through the papers and cut some articles. I have so much pain in me and I am angry. No one knew to call me? I couldn't be there to say goodbye with the community? She was my connection to my childhood home. My sibs do not call or write ever. She was my memory of safety, she was my teacher of love-for my self. She always told me I was okay. She was my very dear friend. She is gone. I am empty. A part of my history died with her. I have no one except my hubby to remember her with. I will send her B a letter for me about my memories of her. He will send me the video of her memorial service. My life is a soap and I don't know how much more I can take.