Two Months Later…Thank You for Being a Friend

March 2026 Trip to New Jersey

The day we were determined to take a picture with every character in Hershey Park! 

 

Hershey Park

Hershey Park

Hershey Park - we did it!

Dinner before we sent our girls off to college! 

It has been two months since my friend Christy passed away, and I still struggle to find the words.

Death is difficult to understand. It feels especially cruel and unfair when someone is taken unexpectedly—someone as wonderful as Christy, who still had so much life to live and so much love left to give.

Christy was one of the kindest and most generous people I have ever known. She did so many things for me - some make me chuckle to think about - but they meant so much.  Especially now.  She checked on me every single week. If I didn’t answer her text or call, she would drive over. I learned to just answer her… quickly!!  She would stop in front of my house to pull my garbage cans out of the road so I wouldn’t get an HOA letter. She baked and cooked for me.  She gave me lacrosse gear - sometimes just to get it out of her house but I never said no!  She carpooled with me.  She invited me to dinner or out for a drink… just because.  She didn’t need a reason.  She gave me a shoulder to cry on and someone to confide in when I was going through my divorce. She supported me when I told her I wanted to go into Real Estate and she became my biggest cheerleader… always texting to tell me how much she loved my post, flyer, or calendar!   She always made me feel loved and special, but she also wasn’t afraid to tell me, “Oh, Amber, stop it!” - in her Minnesota accent -  when I needed to hear it. I can still hear her saying it, and it makes me laugh even as I miss her.

In March, we traveled to New York and took a day trip to New Jersey to watch her daughter play lacrosse. Christy picked us up at the train station, took us to a tailgate, introduced us to everyone, and treated us like family—because that was simply who she was. She made people feel welcomed, included and cared for wherever she went.

At the time, I had no idea how important that trip would become or how grateful I would be for every memory we made. What felt like another fun lacrosse weekend with people we loved has now become one of the memories I hold closest to my heart.

I was out of town at a lacrosse tournament when Christy passed away. There was a painful irony in that. Five years earlier, while I was at a lacrosse tournament in that same city, Christy had been the person who called to tell me that another friend had passed away. This time, I was there when I received the news about her.

The day she passed, I sent her a text before I knew what had happened. When she didn’t respond, I knew something wasn’t right.

Christy always texted me back.  Always. She would want to know how B was doing in her tournament and chat about the trip and see how I was doing.  

When I returned home, I went to the Beer Shed, one of our favorite places. I ordered a draft Michelob Ultra. I never drink draft beer there, but that day, for some reason, I did.

It was served to me in a Coors Light glass.

Coors Light was Christy’s favorite beer.

All I could do was chuckle through the sadness and say, “Well done, friend.”

Maybe someone else would call it a coincidence. I choose to believe it was Christy reminding me that she was still there—and probably laughing at me while she did it.  

Over the past two months, I have picked up my phone several times to text her. For just a moment, I forget that she won’t be on the other end. I miss knowing that she was always only a text or phone call away.

Halloween will be hard this year. Every year, we handed out candy together and drank a few too many beverages with her family and her wonderful neighbors. It was one of those traditions you assume will continue forever—until suddenly, it doesn’t.  

Christy loved my girls and my ex-husband. Whether she was making fresh banana bread or pumpkin bread whenever they asked, helping with lacrosse carpool rides, welcoming them into her home or simply treating them like they were her own family, she was always there.  It meant the world to me we all stayed close after my ex and I split and she made a point to always invite him over and include him.  Not everyone would or could do that. 

But that was Christy.

Selfless. Caring. Giving. She never wanted anyone to feel left out. She made room for people—in her home, in her life and in her heart.

There will never be another Christy.

I was blessed to have her in my life for 12 years. That time feels far too short, but I will always be grateful for every conversation, every laugh, every get together at her house, every Halloween, every lacrosse trip and game and every ordinary moment that I didn’t realize would someday mean so much. 

I love her family—her children, her in-laws, her sister and all the wonderful people she brought into my life. They are more blessings Christy gave me, and I will always love them because I loved her.

Two months later, the loss still doesn’t make sense. I don’t think it ever will.

But neither death nor time can erase the love Christy gave so freely or the difference she made in the lives of everyone fortunate enough to know her.

I am one of those fortunate people.

I miss her every day, but I also feel her with me every day—in unexpected signs, familiar places and memories that make me laugh and cry at the same time.

I miss you, Christy. I love you. And I’ll be watching for the next Coors Light glass.