Friday, December 26, 2008

Farewell, Emilie

My friend Emilie Lemmons died on Christmas Eve after a short but intense battle with sarcoma. She leaves behind a 2-year-old, a 10-month-old and the love of her life. She was only 40. I still can't think what I can write about her that will do her justice.

Emilie and I weren't "close" in the same way she was close to her dear friends. We had only about a half-hour of face time and a handful of phone calls over the six or seven years I knew her. Ours was mostly a professional relationship: she was a reporter for our archdiocesan newspaper awhile back, and I was just another PR flack supplying her with story ideas and sources. But we had a "karma" between us. Whenever we talked, either via e-mail or on the phone, we got into all these conversations that had nothing to do with our original purpose. I've always thought that, had we been neighbor ladies back in the '60s, we'd have spent entire days letting the kids run wild while we talked over the back fence.

When she became a mother and decided to stay home with her little one, she began freelancing. And then there was one more little one, and she was hooked on motherhood. She started a blog when she was trying to get pregnant and wrote terrific columns on parenting and her inner life. She was so happy. Life was good.

We began e-mailing each other at least once a week over the past year. I don't even remember how that began. She read (and commented on -- yay!) this blog, and I read hers devotedly. She was an amazing writer and thinker. Funny. Smart. Gutsy. She was a terrific mother. I was -- and continue to be -- impressed at the depth of her spirituality. We had many conversations about that, and each time we did, I felt like someone out there was making me a better person, dragging me kicking and screaming toward heaven. Now she's gone. Selfishly I wonder if anyone will be able to pick up where she left off. Mostly, I thank her for her ultimate goodness, the positive force she was in the lives of others.

The Basilica of St. Mary should be packed for her funeral on Monday, as she touched so many people in her short life. I suspect her friend Molly Guthrey Millett, a reporter for the St. Paul Pioneer Press, will tell about that in a column in Sunday's paper.

I won't say goodbye to Emilie. Thanks to her, I know I'll see her again, no matter how doubtful I am. I just have to get to heaven to do that. Dang it, Emilie. I don't know if I'm saint material.

10 comments:

Heather said...

I've taken to checking Emilie's blog daily in the past couple months. I was away from the computer for a few days and lost my breath when I read that she was home with hospice care and then that she had passed away. I feel like I have lost a friend even though we'd never met. I miss her voice.

Madwoman of Preserve Path said...

Me, too, Heather. In case you haven't ready Molly's story about Emilie, I'll embed the link in the post.

Marketing Mama said...

I'm a friend of Em's and found your post through google. I'm compiling a list of posts and articles about Emilie on my blog and am going to include yours...

Anonymous said...

hi, just wanted to say that I thought your comments about marriage/parenting were very wise. I don't read your blog, but wanted to tell you this.

Madwoman of Preserve Path said...

Thank you, Anon. (For the confused: I posted a comment yesterday on Heather Armstrong's blog, dooce.com, in response to a question she posted: Which is more difficult? Marriage or parenthood?

My response to her was this: After having been married to the same guy for 31 years, raising three kids and enjoying two grandkids, I can say this: Marriage and parenthood are both tough states, with peaks and valleys, depending on where you are. Kind of like riding through the mountains. When you're in the valley, you gaze at the mountains with longing. When you're in the mountains, the valleys below look green and lush. But most of the time, you don't have the time to sit there and stare. You just deal with the road and try to take the curves with care. And sometimes, you just hope like hell you don't miss one.

Anonymous said...

Hi Madwoman lady :)

I'm the anonymous writer who doesn't have a blog, just a Facebooker in Philly. I was just about to just go about my business and close your blog, but I did read that post about your friend and hope you are well. It was a tribute that I hope will help you and others. Although not a very religious person, I believe in karma and kind thoughts/words will always come back tenfold. Have a good day.

Madwoman of Preserve Path said...

Come again, Anon. Always happy to have new readers. Just haven't written much lately. Feeling kind of bleak here in snowy, cold Minnesota. I've been to Philadelphia once in my life and enjoyed it, although I thought that Philly beat even Minneapolis for potholes and crazy-ass drivers. :)

Anonymous said...

Yeah, that's Philly for ya, but I'm sure if you come again, you'll experience an enlivened city. It's really changing the past 6-7 years I've been here; unfortunately, the city doesn't understand the need for nice roads or trashless streets, not a lot of people who care to clean up after themselves. But as I've always said a city full of temporary apartment dwellers don't have to care about their surroundings unless they actually own the buildings/land themselves.

Thanks, I may come back!

Roxane B. Salonen said...

Hi there...I'm a little late in finding you, but I remember reading a few of your comment's on Lemmondrops throughout the summer. Thanks for being yet another blogger to share thoughts on Emilie's life and legacy. I enjoyed reading of your fleeting but meaningful friendship with Emilie, and have no doubt you're still very much connected.
Peace to you in the continued grieving. We are so lucky to have shared space, even for a short time, with Emilie.

Madwoman of Preserve Path said...

Thanks for the kind note, Roxane. We're lucky indeed.