There were seven of us.  Me, Betsy, Peggy, Barbara, Mary Ann, Carol, and later Chrystal.  We were friends.  We grew up together.  We went to Sunday School, GA's, Training Union and every movie that came to town.  (R rated didn't exist.  Our movies were mostly westerns.)  We traded clothes, shoes, and everything else we had.  We slept over at each other's houses in twos and threes or all seven of us--when it was a slumber party.

My best friend was Betsy.  She died a few years ago with Parkinson's disease.  I got to be with her that night she left for heaven.  I got to tell her how much I loved her and what she had meant to me.
I never got to see Mary Ann again after we graduated.  She died of cancer at a way too young age. Chrystal died from some disease that wasted her body away.  Peggy died with a rare lung disease that finally suffocated her.  I saw Carol a few years ago at the high school reunion.  She wasn't well.  I haven't heard from her since.

Barbara killed herself.  Why?  Nobody knows why.  We were all in shock.  Did we miss something?  Was there something we could have done?  Didn't she know how much she meant to all of us?  What kind of pain did she suffer that we didn't know?  Why did she do such a tragic thing?

They were my friends.  I am the one who is left.  It's like being the last leaf on the tree.  And in the same way that all my close friends from my childhood are gone, the same thing has happened to my family.  Grandparents, parents, aunts, uncles, cousins.  And Ken.  Ken...all gone.  It is so sad.  And entire era of people and their experiences just vanished.

I thank God for the people I had in my life who are gone--and thank him now for the dozens and dozens of other friends I have now.  New friends.  And family younger than me.  Children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren.  But sometimes, I would like to see my old friends and talk about the things that only we would remember.  I miss them.  I miss those times we had together.  I wonder why God has let me outlive them all.  Maybe He thinks I'm not done yet?  I'm writing.  You are reading.  Is that the reason?