Everyone needs a friend like my friend Cap

A post from the archives about friendship, plus week two of Inktober

Hi friends,

I decided to pull something from the archives this week. The following is a revised version of a post that appeared on my blog in August 2019.

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Everyone should have a friend like my friend Cap.

Cap and I first met on a Sunday morning at church several years ago. She was sitting in the pew directly behind us, so my husband and I introduced ourselves during greeting time. "My name is Cap," she said, and I remember thinking what an interesting name that was.

It was impossible not to like Cap immediately. She was one of those people that seemed to radiate the joy and love of Jesus. She continued to sit behind us every Sunday, and we always greeted her warmly, and I often sat to chat with her while everyone around us was making the rounds during greeting time.

Before long I discovered that two of Cap's grandsons--of whom she was immensely proud--attended the school at which I worked. I remember the delight in her eyes when I told her that I worked with each of them regularly in my capacity as a para. As if that didn't delight her enough, when she learned I was an author with my first picture book soon to be published, she was so tickled and impressed that she insisted on hearing all about it.

Cap was around 74 years old at the time, and not in the best of health. But she stayed active and was always full of joy and optimism, even when she was recovering from an injury or surgery. Nothing could keep her down for long.

In June of 2015, Cap was one of the first people to show up for my first ever book store event, celebrating the release of What About Moose? Here she is standing next to me as I signed her copies of the book. She bought several, for her grandkids and the daycare where she used to work.

Over the next few years, I got to know Cap well through our chats at church, impromptu visits in her cozy living room, occasional phone conversations, and even some hospital visits. During that time I learned that Cap was not her real name, but a nick name given to her by her Navy husband early in their marriage. She was immensely proud of her children and grandchildren, and her love for her husband (and his love for her) was nothing less than inspiring. She was married at 17, and she and her husband were married nearly 64 years!

Eventually, Cap stopped sitting behind us on Sunday mornings and started sitting with us. She would come into the sanctuary, moving slowly but intentionally with the aid of her walker, and look toward our usual spot. I loved the way her eyes lit up when she saw me.

Cap wasn’t only a friend. She was also my biggest fan. Bigger than my own mother, if that’s possible. She always wanted to know about my next book, always insisted that I keep her up to date so that she wouldn't miss out, always reminded me how proud she was of what I had accomplished. If I got an update from my editor, Cap got an update too.

So, naturally, when I received the F&Gs¹ of Two Tough Trucks in early 2019, I went for a visit. Cap was delighted to see the early, unbound version of the book. I even brought my iPad along so she could see the digital version of the not-quite-finished Federico and the Wolf. She was tickled. And she couldn't wait to see each of those books in finished form.

But she never got to.

A few months later, I decided to give Cap a call to see if she was up for a visit. It had been a few weeks since I’d seen or talked to her, and I was hoping to catch up. Her son-in-law answered the phone, and he told me that Cap had passed away the night before.

Being part of a local church congregation for the past twenty years has meant I’ve had to say goodbye to plenty of older friends, all of whom are missed. But never had I experienced such raw grief over the loss of someone who was not related to me. Cap’s friendship was such a blessing. She was so much more than a friend. She was family, like a second mother. It’s been just over five years, and I still miss her. But I am so glad to have been able to call such a delightful, loving woman my friend.

Everyone needs a friend like Cap. Someone older, wiser, and full of stories. Someone who will celebrate your victories and share in your struggles. Someone whose passing will leave an ache in your heart, but whose light will shine so brightly that it will continue to glow long after they’re gone.

Do you have a friend like Cap?

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Inktober 2024 week two

1. An F&G, short for “fold and gather,” is a floppy, unbound version of picture book which is sent to reviewers and booksellers ahead of publication.