Death of a Friend Poems

Bonnie (1976-1997)

Bonnie’s eyes were full of light,

A light that could pierce your soul.

It was as if she could feel how you

felt, see what you saw.

She could read your mind –

and she would always try to teach

you how to read hers too!

She would do anything if you

just gave her the chance.

She would cheer at your volleyball games

or jump out of a plane!

She loved every minute of being around

the people she loved

and the people who loved her.

She would listen to you, laugh with

you, and cry with you.

Bonnie was Love. Bonnie is Love.

That is all she ever wanted

That is all she ever gave –

She transcended that wheelchair

And she’ll transcend the grave.

(7-18-97)

Holding You in My Arms
(for Bonnie)

Of all the times we spent together

I’ll miss your sparkle and your charm

But most of all I think I’ll miss

Holding you in my arms.

I was so determined to learn to hold you

To get that wheelchair together and apart

And thus began our many adventures

That still linger deep within my heart.

Nothing made me feel as close,

Or safe from any harm, than the

Precious moments I was blessed to spend

Holding you in my arms.

(7-18-97)

Bonnie's volleyball uniform

The Rest of the Story

I first noticed Bonnie decked out in uniform at a varsity volleyball game. My good friend (who also happened to be six-feet tall and a stellar player) was on that team. I was immediately drawn to the light surrounding Bonnie. She had such an infectious smile and was the best cheerleader. I love happy people. Much like Buddy the elf, smiling is my favorite too. I knew I had to meet this happy, cheerful person.

I learned that Bonnie had cerebral palsy since birth. She had no easy way to communicate, so no one in her family was sure how much she actually understood until she was in grade school. One of her teachers found a way to communicate with her through blinking. What an amazing day that must have been, when the girl who understood everything was finally understood.

I was introduced to Bonnie and the rest is history. We became fast friends. She would use this contraption attached to her chin to peck out letters on her computer keyboard and write me notes. The notes were printed out on a slim receipt-like paper. It would take her an hour or so just to peck out a couple of sentences. I was always amazed when the note was longer than a few inches. Eventually I learned to decipher the words she spoke aloud. She would speak and I would repeat after her, to make sure I got the words right. She would frown when I got them wrong and smile big when I got them right.

High school went by in a flash and I lost touch with Bonnie when we went to college. (Someday I will tell you the story of how we reconnected because it was nothing short of a miracle.) We reconnected about a year later and that is when our crazy adventures began.

I never saw Bonnie go anywhere without a parent and I wanted to change that. After years of watching her mom or dad carefully remove her from the car and place her in a wheelchair, I asked her mom one day if she would show me how to do it. Next, I learned how to help her eat, drink and take her medicine. Stacking up pills a mile high, placing them in the very back of her throat, and squirting what felt like an entire water bottle into her mouth so she could swallow all those pills without choking was indeed an art. Finally, I learned how to take her to the bathroom. I felt bad at first for having to take care of something so personal, but honestly, she was used to others caring for her, so it really wasn’t that big of a deal.

Game on.

From that day forward, I took Bonnie everywhere. We went to the park, to dances, to the mall, to church, to get-togethers with other college students. I even introduced her to the world of toilet papering someone’s house at midnight. The last thing we did together was attend a 4^th of July Alabama concert in Phoenix, AZ with my new husband and his family. It was the first country music concert I ever attended. Bonnie LOVED Alabama, so I knew she had to go. It was a night I’ll never forget. Some weeks later, I got the unexpected phone call that caused time to stand still. Bonnie died in her sleep while at summer camp. The above poems were written shortly thereafter. I gave the poems to her parents at the funeral as a way to show my respect and share in their grief.

Do you have a family member with cerebral palsy? Or perhaps you have a friend who suffers from this condition? Maybe you know someone who has a different condition, but who is also confined to a wheelchair.? I’d love to hear thoughts that come to mind as you read the above poems and reflect on any of your own friends who may have been called home too soon.

Bonnie's first midnight toilet papering
experience with friends