Sophie

I had no idea who she was but every day while I waited in line to pick-up Amy and Hollie from school she would come over to my car and catch me up on PTA and the school gossip.  Finally I asked Mary Ellen who she was, the short woman with the short chestnut hair who talked and talked.  "Oh, you mean Sophie?  Mary Ellen said, laughing.  "She's lives two houses away from me.  Until this year her daughter, Amanda, went to St. Clements. Sophie is a lot of fun!
I got to know Sophie better over the next few months since Amanda and Amy were in the same class, but it wasn't until a warm, May night when I took her home from a PTA function that we became friends.  That night, we sat in my car, in her driveway, and talked for over an hour. We talked about PTA, kids, grandkids (she had one; I didn't), and how our husbands never answered the phone because it was never for them. We decided right then and there that our husbands needed to meet. We exchanged phone numbers, and the rest is history.
Sophie entered my life at a time when I was "out-of-sorts" with my world.  It wasn't the best time in my marriage, and I was struggling with being a working girl after being a stay-at-home mom for many years.  My daughters were growing-up, and after getting married so young, I wasn't sure where I belonged. Sophie became the older sister I never had, and sometimes, the mom, the one who would listen and not judge, but at the same time put me in my place.
Sophie was quite outspoken, and believe me, if she had something to say to you, she said it!  Clearly.  I learned from Sophie to stand-up for myself to the point where sometimes even Sophie would tell me to back down!  When Paul and Leonard got to know each other the four of us would pick Mary Ellen up and go out dancing and drinking on the weekends.  We became PTA's "bad girls," following a country band called The Outriders.  We became the band's most loyal fans (Mary Ellen married one of the band's guitarists, Rodger), and called ourselves "The Hall of Shame Dancers."  We would close the bars then go for breakfast where nine times out of ten I would plop ketchup on my white blouse. Sophie's favorite song was The Dance, by Garth Brooks, and one night, after a few beers, she told me that she wanted The Dance played at her funeral.  I said, "Okay, and do you want buried in your purple cowboy boots?"  "Yep," she answered.  "Okay" I said again, and then we started talking about how we were going to be two old ladies in cowboy hats and boots causing "Trouble" at the nursing home.
 It wasn't all fun and games. There were spousal disagreements (ok, sometime huge arguments), kids to keep in line and take care of, financial woes, and everyday life to deal with. This was the part of of our lives that taught me what a great woman and "great mom" Sophie was, as her daughter wrote on FaceBook yesterday.
Sophie put everyone else first.  She was there for me when Leonard was in the motorcycle accident - pretending to be his sister so she could go into the ER room with me (did I mention Sophie was a nurse before she became a full-time mom?).  She walked in and bent down by Leonard and said, "I am your sister."  Leonard looked at Soph, went to say something, and she said "Shhh!  I am your sister!)  She watched Amy every morning before school, and was the only person Amy would stay with other that my mother.  She kept Amy overnight when I had surgery, and made our wedding cake for our 20th anniversary.  She volunteered at  school and church, helped out her older neighbors, and as far as I know, never missed Mass.
Soph made all the pew bows for Jen and Bill's wedding; she loved to do crafts and make things for friends and family.  Her kids have quilts and crocheted blankets, dream catchers ( I still have mine, and the plate she made for our anniversary).  She made homemade fudge every Christmas.  Her backyard was filled with flowers and toys for the grandkids, and her heart overflowed with kindness for young and old alike.
Soph called me on spring evening.  "I found a lump, but I'm sure it's nothing."  I think my heart stopped at that moment.  "You still need to call the doctor," I told her.  "I did, I'm going tomorrow.  But I'm sure it's nothing."
Nothing turned out to be nine months ( I remember this because after she found out it was cancer she said it would be all be over in nine months, the same amount of time as being pregnant, but without the cute little baby coming at the end) of radiation, surgery and chemo.  At the end of that phone conversation I hung up the phone and cried.  She made me promise to make an appointment for a mammogram, and made me promise to have one every year (And I do).  Soph might have lost her hair through her treatments, but never her spirit and positive outlook.  She still tried to help others even when she was going through the treatments.
Nine months later Sophie was feeling good; the cancer was gone. She and Paul traveled to Disney World with Amanda's cheerleading squad, Amanda graduated, Soph spent time with little Patrick and the other grandkids, and our conversations went back to normal.
It was the day after Thanksgiving, the year 2000.  I had done something to my back and could not get up from the chair.  I called Sophie for "nursing" advice.  "My back hurts too, and my neck is stiff," she told me.
"Gee," I said, "Maybe we should start going dancing again, we had less aches and pains when we were going out all the time!"
I ignored the signs, I didn't even want to think about what it could be.  I knew my aches were nothing, but I had read enough when Sophie was diagnosed with Breast Cancer to know her aches could be something.  It wasn't until Leonard and I stopped over Sophie and Paul's to tell them about our new home in Parma Heights, that it hit.  Sophie's cancer was back, this time, in her bones.  She said, "I'll have the treatments and this time it will be gone for good!"  I prayed Soph was right.
I have many regrets from those last months Sophie was here, but my biggest regret is not going over to see her on Good Friday, 2001.  She called me at work, and I could tell by the way she was talking, things were not good.  Paul got on the phone and I could hear the worry in his voice.  Sophie wanted to talk to me again and said, "You will come over next week, for sure, right?"  I promised I would.  I kept my promise, but Sophie wasn't there.  She made it to spend Easter with her family, but by Monday evening, she was gone.  Amanda called and told me.  I remember hanging up the phone, and, I don't even know how to explain the horrible, heartbroken sounds coming from my throat.  My best friend, my guardian angel was gone.  I cried for me, for Paul, for their kids. I cried more for Sophie than I did for my own mom.
It's been ten years since Sophie's been gone, and I still miss her everyday.  So many times I want to pick up the phone and talk with her; get her advice.  She would be so very proud of all her kids and grandkids.  But even though we cannot see her, she is still here with us, watching over us and cheering us on.
I often think back to those days in Franklin's parking lot, sitting in the car talking though the window to the short woman with the short hair whose name I didn't know.  Thank you God, for sending Sophie over to me!
Love you Soph!