On Losing a Friend

Fran was usually the first person I’d see after checking in at the YMCA’s front desk. She kept the place clean, especially the ladies’ locker room, but she did so much more than push a mop or a cleaning rag. She was the finder of lost things, the smile and joke I needed after a bad day, the shoulder to cry on after a really bad day. I went through a rough patch about nine years ago when I hurt my back and slipped into clinical depression and a major fibromyalgia flare. I knew I needed exercise; it had always helped me before. My physical therapist advised a return to activity, that I should get out and see people. But simply leaving my house seemed like a monumental task. I tired just thinking about walking across the parking lot, changing into a bathing suit, changing afterward.

Fran not only took care of me when I was there, she took care of all of us, like the self-appointed den mother to the ladies of the YMCA. She fastened the straps of my suit when I didn’t have enough flexibility to reach them. She listened and hugged me while I poured out my frustrations, from losing my job to having to learn how to walk again. When I passed out from a combination of a too-hot shower, a new medication, and the twenty pounds I lost while I was ill, Fran was the first one there with a cold cloth for my forehead.

She had been one of the few to notice my improvement. “I see you getting better,” she said. “I see you making eye contact and stuff. That’s a good sign, right there.”

One day when I came into the locker room, well after my recovery, Fran turned from what she was doing and flashed me a broad smile that showed the missing teeth on the right side. “I got somethin’ for you, chick-chick,” she said. She called all the women “chick-chick” or “chickie.” Then she gave me a pair of flip-flops she bought for a dollar at the mall, because she saw I didn’t have any.

I was heartbroken when the Y let her go last year in favor of an outside cleaning service. The place was never the same: the warmth, the chickies, and the Fran-ness were gone. It certainly isn’t any cleaner, either. Fran’s chicks were angry that the Y had done her dirty, and we were worried for her, that without purpose, without feeling needed, her health, already not the greatest, would fail.

And as we’d feared, it happened. We still don’t know the exact cause of her sudden death, but just a look passed among the ladies in the locker room spoke volumes: her heart had been broken, too.

The last time I saw Fran was at a potluck supper our aqua-jogging instructor hosted in her honor. It was a beautiful day and we were laughing, drinking sangria, and making jokes that we barely recognized each other with our clothes on. She always laughed the loudest. That’s what I want to remember about our chick-chick.

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Author: laurieboris

Writer, editor, proofreader, stand-up comedian in another life.

20 thoughts on “On Losing a Friend”

  1. Fran will live on forever in your heart – the smile, the warmth and the friendship you shared will never go away. Every time you think of Fran, the good memories will help you cope with your loss.

  2. …and I bet that you will hear that laugh every time you think of Fran, Laurie. What a beautiful thing that you and all the chick-chicks had that time to celebrate with her and make that memory. Beautiful story Laurie…not only well written, but a reminder of the folks that really make a difference in our lives.

  3. Why is it that bean counters can never put a value on kindness? Your Fran sounds like the sort of person we all need in our lives. I wish I’d known her. -hugs-

  4. Thank you so much for writing this. Fran was my Grandmother and I miss her everyday of my life, knowing someone loved her that much as I did that means the world to me. Thank you for your kind words about Fran. I’m Fran’s grandson Michael

    Thank you again!

    1. Michael, I’m so glad to hear from you! Your grandmother was such a wonderful lady, and she meant the world to her “chicks” at the Y. Thank you. I can’t go in there without thinking of her. And I know how much she loved her family.

  5. It’s a beautiful blog you wrote about my Grandma Fran, it’s true Fran’s heart was broken after the Y let her go. But she is forever in my and will remain there. She made the YMCA, everyone loved her there. I was would go to the Y and look for her. She’ll be a year gone on the 21st of February and its still a slap in the face. I love reading this blog because it helps me feel better. Thank you so much for sharing your kind and loving words about Fran. She loved her “chickety chicks” too.

    Thank you for your kind words!
    Michael Lang

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