Old Friends

We were snugly seated in pews not far from the altar in the Mission Basilica San Buenaventura. The group of us had come to say goodbye to a high school classmate who had recently passed away. While our friend was a much loved, loyal, and exceptionally generous woman, I sensed we were at the memorial Mass as much for one another as for the deceased. We had already lost several friends from our days at the all-girls Academy of St. Catherine, including two of my closest friends.

The ritual of the Mass was reassuring even to the non-practicing among us. Kneeling challenged old and replaced knees alike, yet we recited the familiar prayers and asked for blessings for ourselves and our loved ones as we did when we were teenagers. The readings and the eulogy captured the spirit of our lost friend. As the bagpiper played Amazing Grace, we walked out to the Mission Garden to dry our eyes and hug each other.

The night before we had gathered at the beach house of one of the women for an informal reunion. Some, like me, had come from miles away while others still lived in our old hometown. There were stories to share all around — families raised, beloved parents departed, careers, and what we are up to now. Spirits were high as we reminisced about long-ago adventures and misadventures. Yes, a few of us, me included, had been picked up by the police on County Fair Day for stealing temporary no parking signs. We hadn't thought of it as theft, we saw them as props for our upcoming sophomore dance with its West Side Story theme. The police saw it differently, but it didn't go on our permanent records. The story comes up whenever we are together, which is not often. Class reunions are few and who knows when we might be together again. So that night we indulged our nostalgia and laughed.

The afternoon of the memorial, after a celebration of life with a large crowd of family and friends, four of us retreated to another beach house up the coast from Ventura at Solimar Beach. In the quiet of the June fog, we talked more intimately about our lives. About love and loss and what it is like to enjoy our days now. While we remember each other as young women all those years ago, we appreciate the grace that age has given us, if not the aches. We promised to stay in better touch and I will.