Fierce
I am blessed with fierce friends. Friends who stick, who defend, who snarl. Wolves and a couple of wolverines. Female mostly but some stellar men. I must have the luck of the draw.
It’s not about old friends, not even best friends. Some are of fairly recent acquaintance. Some are not great about staying in touch. But my fierce friends have great instincts for trouble – my troubles. They rally around in some coded network. A call, a message – when I laugh and ask how they knew, they shrug and deny any prior knowledge.
I try to be a fierce friend – the one who won’t hear a word said against you without tearing that person a new one, and will call you out on your bullshit anytime you deserve it.
Fierce. I was a fierce mom until my kids told me to back off, they enjoyed fighting their own battles. I am a fierce partner and the spouse stays calm while I go out, all guns blazing, refusing to let anyone take a good man for granted. He smiles and shrugs and quietly leaves the small stuff be. I am learning to be a fierce woman. Learning that fierce is not the same thing as loud. I used to be vociferous in argument, now it’s easier to quietly hold precious ground, to stay true to inner convictions.
But back to my pack. As always, they have rallied around in this unusual crisis of health. Phone calls, demands for updates and reminders for doctors’ appointments – you are precious, says one, get your ass to the hospital, says another. Now that the crisis has been temporarily managed, I set out today to cheer myself up in the best way – I meet one pack for coffee, and then I meet an alpha loner for lunch. It is a measure of my need and a tribute to their rock like support that I drive a total of 3 hours in driving rain to meet my fierce friends.
I meet the ones who say, go see a doctor – NOW! They ply me with hot chocolate shots and eggs kejriwal, they compliment a flabby friend to blushes and they sit around me in a tight circle, I bask in their closeness.
Then I leave them to meet the Alpha. The one who said some years ago, find a therapist – NOW! The one who puts out a full sapaad of healthy food and refuses to let me destroy my fragile digestion with too much pickle. She knows I need distraction from self pity – she comes at me hard with conversation that requires attention, with questions that need thought and with so much love that it surrounds me like a balm.
A month later, recuperating at home, more of the pack gathers – one sends mutton curry (for the boys), another home made laddoos (eat and regain your strength), still another a year’s supply of kishmish (though he also admonishes me to walk light footed – stop lumbering around, he says). They visit in pairs or alone, cooing and cuddling in the most unwolverine way. Some call from half way across the world, some cackle at my misery and bring me back to earth with a thud (yes, you know who you are…), others send novels and flowers – oh, the flowers!! Great big bunches that fill my home and my senses with colour and fragrance.
I will be fifty years old soon. These are the fierce friends of a lifetime. I have known some of them since I was eight years old, others for a mere twenty five years, one or two joined the pack only a few years ago. I couldn’t have made it this far without them. Out of them all, I guess I’m lucky that only one…or two have betrayed the bond. Those hurt so much, the ones that chose to walk away. I may well be to blame, holding them to account when they needed absolution, demanding loyalty when they wanted the easy way out. It’s still hard to think of these lost friends and our shared memories.
My fierce friends are the family I chose for myself. They are the ones who have always rallied around me, called me out on any bullshit and have my back in any battle. A few years ago, as I sat in an ambulance going nowhere, reeling from the shock of impending loss and colossal betrayal, it was another friend, the original Alpha loner who messaged: I’m here, I’m waiting at the hospital. What it meant, of course is: I’m here for you. She stayed with us all night, bullying doctors, cajoling ICU staff, demanding answers. When I most needed the support, it came from this fiercely asocial friend. She kept it up for the next few days until the crisis had momentarily abated. She rallied other friends, organised hospital rooms and airline permissions, so that I could bring my dying mom home. It’s impossible to say what I might have done without her presence. Possibly, I may have managed, figured it out, soldiered on. But there she was, and I am so grateful for this alpha woman and the pack of fierce friends who rallied around to help.
The leit motif of my generation these days is Fifty and Fabulous. I like Fifty and Fierce. Fight, live, love – be fierce. Be a fierce friend, lover, parent. Keep paying it forward, if you’re lucky enough to receive this amazing gift of fierce friendship.
Fierce!!