Ode to Becca

Friendship ~ Chris Stapleton

Writing about my friendships is important to me. At my age, most of my friends have been around for over 20 years. Don’t get me wrong, some have come and gone, building their lives, searching for happiness, searching for themselves, or just disappearing into the abyss. And, of course, some are no longer with us. Throughout my life, a handful of people have shaped me, haunted me, taught me things, and left an impact that lingers, like a really good ghost story.

Through love and loss, these relationships have made a mark on me, both old and new. Some of these friendships and relationships make up a good part of who I am today. As I flip through the pages of my life and take inventory of these connections, it's clear they are worth noting. Though I have a long list of people who have touched my life, there are only a handful who sit heavy in my heart. Becca was one of them.

Becca is someone who has left a very noticeable void...

How can I possibly sum up the impact one person can have on my life? Where do I begin to pay tribute to one of my truest friends, my soul friend? A person who filled my life with so much love, and occasionally feeling the urge to throat punch her. I know for a fact that this feeling was mutual. We could be thick as thieves one minute and oil and water the next. Regardless, she is someone I will love every day of my life and someone I ache for every day.

When I first met Becca, I never imagined that 20 years later, she would become such a huge part of my life. She was a friend you never knew you needed, but once she was there, you never wanted to let her go. Becca was high octane with an endless drive. She had a gift for making every moment count and making everyone feel like a million bucks, even a stranger in the grocery line or a homeless person standing on the corner. She was extra, extra, all the time! If we were on our way to an event, I knew her personality was going to make us late because she just couldn’t not talk to someone. Her laughter was more contagious than a yawn at a staff meeting, and her energy was so much that I couldn’t keep up at times. She had a word quota to hit daily because the sheer volume of texts and calls between us was astronomical. She could chat for hours about anything and everything, mostly poking fun at my height or my alleged helplessness. She loved to joke that she had to plan my life because I was, in her words, hopeless.

Every time we hopped into an Uber, and I do mean every single time, her first side comment was a joke about my tattoos and prison. (I've never been to prison.) She absolutely loved watching the drivers' reactions! She was convinced she was the funniest person on the planet. And she had this sixth sense for knowing when I needed a friend. She'd show up with the attitude of a drill sergeant and a detailed plan. This girl could whip up an itinerary from a ten-minute chat, and by the time we hung up, I'd have a fully built-out plan for whatever event we discussed or my life in general. There was no escaping her well-organized clutches, no matter what! She was always locked and loaded!

Becca was the first person I told that I was transitioning, actually, she was the first person I told everything to. Her mission? To protect me, make me feel loved and safe, and boy, did she nail it! I never really got a big reaction from her, and she kept up with all the changes. I know for a fact that the second we hung up the phone, she was already deep diving into a "Transitioning 101" manual, ready to map out every step like a seasoned general preparing for a mission. She quickly began calling me Cooper and didn’t miss a beat on the pronouns.

Our friendship wasn't without its fair share of “I’m going to throat punch you” moments. We argued, we disagreed, and there were moments when I considered taking up primal scream therapy just because of her. HA!! Yet, somehow, there was this invisible super glue that kept us stuck together no matter the circumstances.  Becca had this power of seeing right through my slow blinks, understanding my highs and lows without me uttering a word. Her cards, notes, surprise gifts, and the occasional "there's something at your door" from Door Dash were all testaments to her generosity and thoughtfulness. She always thought I needed tomato soup for some reason, and no matter how often I told her I didn’t like soup, it was at my doorstep every time I said I didn’t feel good. She was the kind of friend who wouldn’t let a birthday, holiday, anniversary, or even the day you first met slip by unnoticed. She made sure YOU remembered the day you became friends with her, no forgetting allowed!

She was there for so many big moments in my life, the roller coaster of ups and downs. She had my back during heartbreaks and joined my victory dances during triumphs. She was my confidant, my cheerleader, my pseudo-girlfriend, soulmate friend, and wedding date (usually, I was hers). She was my best friend in every way that counted. I never imagined life would throw a curveball in our direction or that I would end up with a missing limb.

She called me up when she found out she was sick with cirrhosis. At first, I brushed it off like it was the flu because I had no idea what she was talking about. If she had said cancer, I would have immediately recognized the seriousness. A few days later, I looked it up and realized how severe it was. I tried my best to plan things out and support her, just as she had always supported me. Even though I wasn't very good at it, I put in my best effort. Becca, of course, wasn’t having any of it. Everything had to be on her terms, seriously, until the very end, it was her way or the highway!

I remember the first call I got saying she was in the hospital. I wasted no time and jumped in my car, making the two-and-a-half-hour drive to San Jose. During that drive, I was shaking and thinking the worst, with my thoughts racing and every minute feeling like an eternity. I probably should have gotten a speeding ticket, but I was too focused on getting to her. When I finally arrived at the hospital, I raced up the stairs to her room, my heart pounding with fear. To my relief, there she was, lying there as if nothing was wrong. It was in that moment I wanted to throat punch her, I was scared!!!! I walked over to her and laid my head on her chest, listening to her heartbeat. She, of course, began cracking jokes, unable to help herself, typical!

As time passed the more hospital visits continued, time started to show its effects mentally and physically. She eventually moved in with her mom and carried on with her daily routine there. Nothing could stop her! She kept working, attending events, planning the upgraded remodels in her mom’s house, going out of town, booking trips and celebrating birthdays, basically doing everything she could. At one point, she even took an Amtrak trip to spend the weekend with me. Despite being sick and barely able to walk, she managed to make her way up to Sacramento, just to lounge around my house and order everything on the Applebee’s menu while we watched serial killer documentaries. We also took a weekend trip to the coast. We didn’t do much at the hotel except her giving us facials, binge-watching baking shows, touring the small town, spending 90 bucks on saltwater taffy, relaxing on the beach, and going to Sam’s Chowder House for dinner. Everything moved at a slower pace, with short walks and longer stops. I didn’t know how patient I was until I traveled on this journey with her. We could have taken an entire day and walked only five feet, and I wouldn’t have complained as long as she was happy. I watched helplessly as this disease took its toll on her, feeling like there was nothing I could do but be her partner in crime on our low key adventures whenever and wherever.

Each time there was a hospital trip, I found myself thinking, "Fuck! This is it. I'm about to lose her." I rushed back to be by her side, desperate to be there for her. I found myself putting my life on pause so I could be available at any given moment. Only a few people knew about her illness, and we were bound by her wishes to keep it a secret. The girls in this circle of trust gave round the clock care for her whether by phone, visits or staying the nights with her. As time passed, it became increasingly difficult to maintain this secrecy. The weight of knowing her time was limited and the thought of her loved ones missing the chance to say goodbye became too much to bear. It was an incredibly heavy burden for all of us. This was another time I wanted to throat punch her, she was so fucking stubborn and completely unreasonable.

We were fortunate enough to celebrate her 41st birthday with one last hoorah gathering. Her mom's house was filled with friends and family, all making a conscious effort to focus on the happiness of the day rather than her visible illness. Loved ones traveled from numerous states to offer their well wishes, but you could see it in their eyes, they were there to say goodbye. It was so hard to be happy when you’re already mourning the loss of someone who hadn’t passed but knowing the time was creeping up. Despite her serious condition and frail body, her spirits were high, and she was overjoyed by the turnout and support from everyone. She talked about it for days afterward.

There were so many close calls that we kept thinking, "This is it! Today's the day!" The doctors were in and out like it was a revolving door of anxiety. It felt like tiptoeing on a ledge, just waiting for a sneeze to send us over the edge. About a year and a half into her illness, things started getting worse and worse. I remember receiving a phone call from Becca early one morning at 5 am. She was crying and told me she was scared. That day still cripples me, I can’t shake it off!!  It was the first time I didn't immediately rush to be with her, thinking it was another trip to the hospital. I was stuck in town and couldn’t leave at that moment. I reassured her that everything would be okay and that she would be back home soon. 

A few days later, her mom held the phone to her ear as I said my final goodbyes before they took her off the ventilator. She was surrounded with love, family and friends. Writing about moments like this is incredibly difficult for me. I wasn’t there, I should have been there! That weight sits heavy on my heart.

On the day of her Celebration of Life, numerous people took the stage to share the impact she had on their lives. One memory that stands out is a young boy, no older than ten, who spoke with such sincerity that his words have stayed with me. He was so brave to stand up there and speak. Her best friend also spoke, skillfully finding moments of humor amidst the sadness, leaving no stone unturned. It was a beautiful tribute, capturing her essence perfectly!!!  She was able to bring smiles and laughter during such a somber moment.

As her best friend walked off stage, I noticed a few friends looking at me, seemingly encouraging me to speak. I found myself unable to move, another moment I won’t forget. I wish I had taken that opportunity to honor her, but I was overcome with emotion and just froze.

If I had to tell one story, it would have definitely been about our recent trip to Sam’s Chowder House. Her boujee ass decided to order an entire lobster, even though she'd never tackled one before. The moment it arrived in all its whole glory, regret washed over her face. You should've heard her, she wasn't shy about pointing out the obvious.

She expected this lobster to come pre-disassembled, no labor required. But nope, she had to order it! And let me tell you, she couldn't have picked a worse place to start cracking that lobster open. Tomalley flew everywhere, hit the table next to us, splattered on my glasses, and covered our table. When my brain finally caught up with my eyes, I saw she was drenched in green goo all over her clothes, in her black curly hair making more of mess as she continuously kept trying to get it out of her hair.  I immediately started laughing! I couldn’t help it, she was so dramatic about it.  She was always dramatic.

She was mortified, apologizing to the table next to us. Then she burst into that hearty stomach laugh. It was the best! Of course, she got over it quickly, sliding her plate over and forcing me into labored work. Typical, always the supervisor, never the laborer!

I often reflect on the memories we shared, I am filled with so many mixed emotions. There is sad joy in remembering the good times, the laughter, and the adventures even through the tough times that we worked through and overcame, which always brought our friendship closer.  But there is also an ache, a sorrow in knowing that there will be no more new memories with her, no more texts, no more calls, no more visits, no more weekend trips!  Not a day goes by that I don’t quietly say her name, and on some days, I get angry wishing I could throat punch her. Life is far from fair.

Becca's impact on my life is immeasurable. She taught me the true meaning of friendship, loyalty, and love, and she showed me what unconditional love really looked like and felt like. Thanks to her, I became a better version of myself. It was at this point in my life that I began appreciating friendships on a much more deeper level and valuing their presence in my life.  She was incredibly smart and humble but also boujee and a bit hood. Becca was hilariously picky about her food, unapologetically loud, fiercely strong, incredibly independent and just a bad bitch!  She will always be a part of my story, my person, a part of me.