Meet My Readers Monday

Monday, February 20, 2012


I have known Molly since junior high at least. She's a year younger than I am so we didn't hang out too much, but we probably slept over at Kym Mann's house together on several occasions, doing all those fun slumber party games where we tried to make each other faint or pretended to be hypnotized. I do remember one particular time in high school where Molly and I were talking to a couple of boys about a dance coming up that weekend. Neither of them were going, and neither Molly or I had been asked. I remember thinking, "Hello? Two cute girls right here!" Come to think of it, they probably both asked Molly.
Also, can I just say--Molly can SING. For such a small person, she has a seriously hefty set of pipes. I was lucky enough to hear her perform several times in high school and got chills every. time. If she puts on another Good Grief concert and you are within a 300-mile radius you should absolutely, positively go and hear her. I will do the same.
I lost track of all sorts of people after high school. Molly was no exception to this. When blogging started to take off, it took me awhile to get on the bandwagon. Once I did, though, I was hooked. I blog-surfed into Molly's blog and was delighted to see she was still the cute, spunky, amazing Molly she had been in high school. I debated about leaving a comment. I almost did, but I wasn't sure she would remember me. So I chickened out.
It was probably only about a month later when I saw on a mutual friend's sidebar a picture of Molly and Vic and Lucy with the admonition to pray because Lucy was in the hospital. I was in shock. It had only been a short time before when I had read and laughed about Lucy saying, "I need some more gas." 
There is a natural order to life, expectations that we have. One of those expectations is that children are not supposed to die before their parents. It simply isn't supposed to happen. As a mother, I ached for Molly. I had no idea what she was going through, but I could imagine. And while my imagination is vivid and strong and ripped at my heart, I was also well-aware that in my imaginings I had hardly tipped the iceberg. I regretted so much not re-connecting with Molly before. For not letting her know she had another friend (you know, if she remembered who I was). I sent a card and I prayed for months. I read this blog and I wept many times. I held my own children closer, longer, and tried not to take for granted their happy smiles and laughter. I tried to be less-irritated when they were cranky and more loving when they were disobedient. 
Several months after, I started going through my own tragedy. My twelve-year marriage was in serious jeopardy. I spent my own dark period of grief when I realized that my own expectations of being married forever to my best friend were being completely altered. I continued reading Molly's blog and marveled at her strength. I now knew the worst pain of my life. I wasn't sure how I could ever escape the tripwire I seemed to continually run into--that this was my life and it wasn't anything like I thought it would be.
When Molly had Peter, I was so happy for her. So happy to see her joy and her healing. And yet, I still appreciated that she didn't sugar-coat or varnish her grief into anything it wasn't. When I made the painful decision to get divorced, I hoped it would help with my own healing. It has, and I have received a measure of peace that I didn't have before. However, I still have times when the pain reaches out from behind and tears through me unexpectedly. Where I have to stop a moment and catch my breath and say a prayer to get me through the next moment. And I still cry, though not nearly as much as I used to.
Molly and I reconnected via Facebook and I was so glad we did. (She did, after all, remember who I was.) I was able to let her know--without feeling too much like a crazy stalker--how amazing I think she is.
Thanks, Molly, for teaching me about grief, about what a terrible, wonderful, life-changing thing it can be. I am a better person for knowing you, and I'm thankful you have shared your soul with so many.

*Editor's note: Wendy was one of my favorite people in high school and I always wanted to be closer to her. We were both short, petite, fun girls and I admired her. I remember being at her house once and seeing the "weights" she used to lift to stay so buff. They were plastic milk gallons filled with water, maybe? I will never forget that. Wendy's life journey with her children and former husband is something I think few can comprehend. 


  1. Nice to meet you Wendy. Don't you love it when friends can be reunited after time... it's the best!


  2. Hey, Wendy,

    I always wanted to know you better, did you know that? As with everyone who was friends with Molly, Melissa, Amy, etc...but you seemed impossibly out of my league (highly intelligent, super-talented). I'm sorry to hear that you have known such heartache. Please know that you are not alone, and I sincerely hope you have found/ continue to find better times. I also hope you remotely remember who I am, haha! ;-)

  3. Hey Wendy,
    I always wanted to know you better, did you know that? As with everyone who was friends with Molly, Melissa, Amy...but you seemed impossibly out of my league (highly intelligent, super-talented). I'm sorry to hear you have known such heartache; please know you are not alone. I sincerely hope you have found & continue to find better times. I also hope you might remotely remember who I am, haha! ;-)

  4. It freaked me out a little bit to be checking your blog and come upon that gigantic picture of me. Woah!

    I always forget about the milk jug weights, and when you remind me I'm also reminded that I am the cheapest person alive.

    Katie Quinn--I absolutely remember you, but I was intimidated by your over-the-top beauty. Apparently we should have stopped being intimidated by each other and just become friends. :)


  5. I know I'm impossibly interesting that Wendy and I had the same fears, about being remembered by you

    Molly, I've never reached out...I've never told you how sorry I am. I've never told you how forming those10th ward days, and your mom as my YW leader, and how my heart ached when I heard about your loss.

    Wendy, absolutely one of my favorite, wittiest and determined people I knew....( know)

    I love you both!...and am embarrassed about my insecurities which held me back from expressing it!

    Abby allen salisbury


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