From the Other Side of the Edge….
Even a Full Drink, from Life’s Glass,….Won’t Leave It Empty
By Joe Facinoli

Half full,….or half empty? It’s up to each of us to decide,….how we will live.

A friend of mine died in a plane crash in Atlanta last week, ….you may have seen it on the news.

Another friend, who is much closer to our mutual buddy than I, understandably took it much harder.

They were boyhood pals, and that singular relationship had lasted until the morning of that fateful accident, when they spoke by phone for the last time. 

Nearly Fifty years of friendship.

Two days later, he told me that he simply couldn’t accept the fact that his “brother” was gone, and didn’t really know how to deal with this new sea change to his reality,….which meant that he would never be able to speak with his good and close friend, …nor see him, ….ever again.

I felt his pain. It was real, sincere, and palpable.

My first thoughts were of how to help him,…and perhaps comfort him a bit, as he searched for the right emotions, and grasped for how he could handle this cruel and unwanted reshaping of his own life, …and for what he would do next.

But how does one do that, at a time of such a tough, and personal loss ?

Immediately, I thought of a little girl, and her mother, who together had taught me an invaluable lesson about life, and death, and these kinds of situations, ….many years ago.

I did my best to relate this story to my grieving friend, and how it had helped me get through, and to better understand, other sad passings.

Her name was Corina, and still is, as she will always have a place in my inner soul, and most tender feelings.

We first met her when she was about 7, …or maybe 8. She lived just up the street from us, with her mother Kathy, in a little frame house which we could see from our front porch.

Corina and our son were roughly the same age, and had become “neighborhood” buddies, soon walking to and from school together, nearly every day.

It was just a short three or four blocks, from our street to their elementary school, but they made the most of it, during each these little daily “adventures”.

Never missed a rock, nor piece of trash nor broken old toy, …nor any stray stick to play with. They found every dead bug, or mouse or squirrel, and always had some kind of made up game to play with them, or story to be told about them.

Corina was as cute as the proverbial button, but a “tom-boy” through and through. And our little guy was a true “outdoorsman” even then, and still is to this day. They were the perfect match.

These young “buds” and companions loved each other in a way that only a true, genuine, and unconditional friendship can explain. It was a sight to behold.

But unfortunately, there was a bit more to Corina’s story.

One day, while planning a trip to a favorite Blue Ridge Mountain hideaway, which we frequented during more than a few summer weekends, we went to see Kathy, for permission to take her daughter along.

It was then that we learned that sweet little Corina had a deadly heart condition, which could cause her great pain, or even worse, at any given moment.

We found out from her Mom, that she needed to take several prescriptions each day, just to keep her dark malady at bay, and to let her live a “normal” life, even the full life of an energetic child, so wonderfully clueless to her possible fate.

Her prognosis was not good, to the point that her doctors could not accurately predict just how long this sweet munchkin might actually be with us, here on this earth.

But her Mom was most amazing, at her acceptance of this situation, and put no limitations on her young progeny, as she showered her with a Mother’s love, during every moment she had with her.

Of course, we took her along anyway, and for several more trips, always making sure she took her meds (which she hated, and couldn’t understand why she had to), and always enjoying that sweet, rich, personality of a kid who lived her life to the max, and wouldn’t have it any other way.

We swam, and hiked, and laughed, and thought of Corina as part of our own family. We took her with us on several other vacations, too, and always had a place for her at our table, in our backyard, or in front of our TV.

Our son was greatly enriched by this marvelous friendship, as were his parents.

But as kids grow older, their lives change, and friends change, and we started seeing less of Corina, but always smiled at, and enjoyed her company, whenever she did come around.

She and our son found other friends, but still had a fondness for each other, that was to last for many years. That kind of kinship, that kind of bond, never does fade.

On Corina’s twelfth birthday, a bunch of her girlfriends threw her a party, at a nearby apartment complex where several of them lived. They bounced from building to building, apartment to apartment, and had a grand ol’ time, celebrating their bff’s big day.

During one such “bounce”, as she and two other girls walked between buildings, Corina suddenly collapsed to the ground, rolled over, ….and was gone.

It happened just that quickly, and just as in the worst fears of the doctors who were so hesitant to suggest any sort of longevity for her.

It was incredibly sad, to say the very least. It broke the hearts of everyone who had ever been touched by her, and certainly did a number on all of us.

The next day we got the word about her arrangements, and suddenly it hit me, ….that we were actually going to have to go to a viewing, and a funeral, ….for a 12 year old little girl. And much worse, ….for OUR little girl, or so we had felt, for many of those twelve blessed years.

I pulled myself together enough to make it to the first viewing. I had no idea what to expect, nor just how I would feel exactly, much less how I would deal with my emotions, which were all over the place.

Soon after I arrived, I encountered Corina’s mother. I hardly knew what to say, but a kinder, more gracious woman than this special lady, has never walked among us.

She took my hand, thanked ME profusely for coming (as if I wouldn’t have), and tried to make ME feel more at ease, and not the other way around, if you can even imagine.

At that moment, in the presence of this amazing person, I simply had to ask her how in the world she could be so “together”, and so at peace, with this terrible, and cruel circumstance.

She had a very simple, down to earth answer. One that made perfect (if not emotional) sense, and one that has lived with me from that one enlightening minute forward, until this day, …and to the tragic loss of my friend Michael.

She told me that from the day she found out that Corina had an inoperable, life threatening disease, one that could take her away at any time, without warning, that she would be completely and incredibly thankful to Corina’s maker, for having given her this precious gift, for however long.

She vowed to enjoy every single moment, encounter, and cuteness, every laugh, and every day to day interaction, that was their very special relationship, ….and only theirs.

And now, at this crossroads, with its potential to crush one’s spirit, instead of descending into the deep sadness which so many fall victim to, and which we all are so prone to do, she decided that that she would only feel blessed, for the time she had had with Corina, for those 12 remarkable years, …and not feel cheated for the time she would not have with her, in the future.

I told you this was a special lady. Not many of us could do what she did, and still does today.

But the lesson is there for us.

Be only thankful that we got the time to spend, enjoy, and appreciate our friends, our family members, and others close to us.

And spend NOT so much time cursing our bad luck, nor questioning “Why” something so negative and debilitating, could happen to us.

Reach back, enjoy all the moments, remember all the laughs, rejoice in all the good stuff. And never forget them.

Treasure that you have those joyous and unique memories, …but weep not for them.

Simply embrace them, and cherish them, ….but then move on to the rest of what this magnificent Life has to offer us.

There’s always room for more, and no matter how much we drink from Life’s Glass, …..it will never be empty.

Not for those who really know how to partake from it, ….and how to best enjoy the beautiful tastes Life gives to us, ….past, …present, …and forever.

R.I.P my friend, …Michael. And to you, …our sweet Corina. You both belong to the ages now.

We love you, ….we miss you, ….and we will never forget you.

Joe Facinoli
--Joe can be reached at: joefacinoli@gmail.com
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©Copyright 2014, Joe Facinoli