I Left My Heart in Arizona

I resisted telling you about driving through Arizona on the way to Boston. Actually, it was lovely. More on the loveliness later. This is about my raw heart. These feelings are fresh. I have not felt this in seven years.

In early June, our family traveled to Arizona to watch the Hubs be hooded for his PhD. I remember staring out the window of my minivan, on the freeway. My thoughts tumbled out of my mouth. Did he feel closer to his sister here, I asked. He replied simply, no. I sat still, and stared out that window some more. I DID. I DO.

This past Friday, I walked up the stairs from the basement of our temporary house into the kitchen. It was move out day, to our current house. The Hubs was cleaning. He stopped and looked at a bewildered me. My eyes welled with tears. Was I emotional about leaving the house, he wondered. That was a lighthearted joke. No way. It was something else. I told him he might think I was dumb. I bargained not to tell him. His eyes were burdened looking at me. He wanted to know. Okay. I took one deep breath. I stalled some more. I made him promise not to respond to what I was about to say, no matter what I said. I asked him if he believed that Carina .......(insert the rest of what I said)........ in heaven. It is a question no one on earth can answer.

"Don't say anything," I said. He looked at me deeply. The tears spilled from my eyes. I turned away and he continued to scrub the kitchen counter in silence. Several days later he has never responded. He honored my wishes and I am grateful.

A lot has stirred in my heart between these two conversations over the last two months. I remember vividly snapshots of 1996 to 2003 with Carina, events that have not been present in my mind until now. She became one of my closest friends. She loved me. I loved her. People looked at her funny every time she said, "This is my sister." We look nothing alike. But that is how she thought of me. Period.

Many, many nights over several, several years we talked until the wee hours of the morning. I met all of her boyfriends. More than anything she wanted to be married one day. But no one was ever good enough. No one could ever measure up to a standard she held. I remembered that on Tuesday while packing lunch for the Hubs. So I threw this note in his lunch.


Ten years ago, the Hubs and I drove across country to Virginia. At the last minute, we needed an extra driver. The moving company failed on a trailer for our car. So Carina met us in Flagstaff and drove all the way with us. I remember being frustrated in Texas that she wanted Chinese food and not barbecue. I remember she teased me for not beating her at the silly Cracker Barrel game with the golf tees in Virginia. I remember more. I remember years and years worth. But I also remember wanting her to come to Las Vegas one weekend to fix the house to sell. She could not, she claimed. Her hip hurt. We were a little irritated. A year later when we moved into the Virginia house, I noticed her wincing. She said it was nothing. It was just that old tendinitis in her hip. Yeah, more than one doctor thought so. She was so athletic. Misdiagnosis. Two years later she called to say it was cancer.

Carina was diagnosed with a rare form of cancer. She was the oldest person to be diagnosed. Only 150 people are diagnosed a year with this in the United States. It is a two stage cancer. Stage 1 requires aggressive treatment. Stage 2 means you are a walking miracle if you live. This cancer has no Stage 3 or Stage 4. She was very Stage 2, with a 10 centimeter primary tumor on her hip, others in her lung, others in her spine. She opted for the most aggressive chemo treatment available, the "red devil" cocktail of chemos. The drugs are red. The side effects, well, you can imagine if it includes a nickname of "devil."

Carina came to Virginia to visit in November 2002. She thought she might be in remission. We took a weekend trip to New York City, and saw Columbia University, where she deferred her admission for her Master's. She applied there because my husband, her older brother had received his Master's there. It was a ridiculously fun trip. My mother in law and brother in law came, too. Our whole family was together for the first time in two years. Then came the call my mom had suffered a stroke. I was broken. Carina comforted me, wearing a bandanna on her head. Her hair was growing back in. She prayed for me and for my mom before I left on the next flight to California.

The next month we were in Arizona for Christmas. Carina was in the hospital again. Stem cell replacement was no longer an option. Now it was just more chemo. We sat at her bedside for days. That is my long hair over her head of stubby hair. She did not like the news of more chemo. She did not want to lose her little hair or eyelashes. It was all just growing in. I laughed and told her I would share. I sat this way in her bed the days we were in Arizona. We played games, we sang with Christmas carolers, and we made a list. My husband just stared at me when I asked her what her final wishes might be. He did not want to make the list. Carina said, "Let's make the list." But that is how it always went. She and I had ideas that we made the Hubs agree to. So I sat at her bedside, and scribbled her dictation. Hubs had an envelope with him. I tore the sheet off the pad, put it in the envelope, and sealed it. The list went to Virginia. It sat in my nightstand.

January Hubs traveled to Arizona alone. Carina was back in the hospital. She was losing more weight; it was probably the chemo, he thought. At the end of January, she and I had a long conversation on my work break. She wanted me to come to Arizona soon. She said she needed me to come. Two weeks later, my mother in law called. Carina was coming out of a coma and kept asking where I was. Three weeks later, God worked a miracle on a cheap plane ticket on a holiday weekend. I arrived on a Saturday.

What happened in the first twelve hours I was in Arizona is precious, including her death.

I did not expect to arrive and lose my friend the same day. I did not expect to have my last conversation. I do not know what I expected. Not death. The hospice nurses did not expect it. My heart was torn. IT HURT LIKE CRAZY. My friend was gone from this life. Forever.

I arrived in Arizona for a weekend trip. I did not plan to stay a week. I could have bought something to wear to her memorial. I was honored to wear a dress from her closet. My mother in law suggested I could. So I did. I reminded the Hubs to bring the precious envelope with him to Arizona. Somehow I made the necessary calls. Somehow I started to make the arrangements. I was grateful when the Hubs arrived two days later. He and his brother drove south to an airport. Washington DC area airports were all closed due to snow. Hubs handled so much once he arrived.

Arizona is where I said good bye to Carina. It is where our family remembered her on a gorgeous February morning in Arizona. It was in the 70s, clear and bright. It is where I sang with cousins, where the Hubs gave a eulogy sharing our faith and our hope in the Lord. We know her body is now perfect and healed, and that we will see her again one day. It is where my mother in law and brother in law grieved, along with many other family and friends. Arizona is where I feel closest to Carina. It is where a part of my heart that loves her lives.