Everybody Has A Story: A lifetime of friendship preserved in a driftwood frame

We found it on one of those almost-perfect afternoons at the beach. Only a slight breeze drifted in over the surf. Sunlight skipped over the water, creating a sea of diamonds.

I say “we” because we walked abreast in the warm dry sand, conversation unnecessary, as is typical of heart friends. Our eyes searched the sand for treasures that only a Pacific tide can bestow.

Perhaps we both saw it, partly hidden in the sand, but Lois reached down and retrieved it. Once the end of a wooden box, the rectangular frame was silver-gray, and worn smooth by weeks or months of being caressed by sun and sea.

She passed the frame to me with the request to “paint a picture to fit this.” I protested that I was not capable, as I had only recently begun painting lessons. She insisted, so the frame took its place on a shelf in the garage, along with a collection of treasures that would “someday” become works of art.

Lois’ last trip came late in August. We walked the beach only once, as she was in pain, perhaps from a former injury.

In the years of our friendship, we delighted in searching for and finding unique gifts for each other. When her birthday approached, I decided to paint the picture she had requested. It was a seascape, of course, made three-dimensional by the addition of a few small shells and some dried grasses. I titled it “Labor of Love.”

Her letter said, “It came on a day when I was really down, and needed a lift. I love the title, and appreciate it so much.”

About six weeks later, a call came from her mother. Lois had become worse. Emergency surgery revealed advanced cancer. She was now in the hospital, partially paralyzed.

Unforgettable times

I spent much time in Portland, packing her things for storage, running errands, and sitting by her bedside. We talked and prayed, and she slept a great deal, sometimes briefly awakening to say, “I’m glad you’re here.” She wanted the painting in her room, hung where she could see it.

She died quietly and peacefully.

Now the painting, in its driftwood frame, hangs on the wall in my living room. A masterpiece it is not, but it tells the story of a long and precious friendship, and of unforgettable times together.

It has been said that a person is privileged if in a lifetime, he has one or two really close friends. Lois was that, for me. When I return to walk on the beach, listen to the gulls and search for treasures in the sand, she walks with me, in spirit.

I still miss you, dear friend.

Everybody Has a Story welcomes nonfiction contributions (800 words maximum) and relevant photographs. E-mail is best so we don’t have to retype your words or borrow original photos. Send to neighbors@columbian.com or P.O. Box 180, Vancouver WA 98666.