A Sad Time for the M&M Club

 

Of course I am not speaking of your favorite colorful chocolate candies.  The M&M club was founded many years ago when two young best friends marveled at the luck they had when their moms (who had been pregnant together) named both of them names beginning with the letter "M".  Miriam, my mother, tells me that her first memory of her best friend Myrt (who was actually named Merilyn) involved games of peek-a-boo played through the bars of their individual cribs in the First Baptist Church nursery about sixty years ago.


The two grew up together, Merilyn was graciously granted the childhood nickname of "Myrt," and my mother made certain that this nickname followed her to college and beyond.  At some point, in between numerous practical jokes and untold volumes of silliness that caused my mother to laugh so hard that the tears ran down her leg, these two friends made a vow that the M&M Club would endure throughout the next generation.  They promised to give their future children "M" names also.

I came along first, and poetically (since that is my nature), I was born on Myrt's birthday.  She is appropriately pictured above (at one of our mutual birthday celebrations) wearing the sparkling crown that she deserved every day.  Let the truth be known; she really was like my unofficial fairy godmother, and I am pretty sure they are supposed to wear crowns.

I will always remember her sweetness, her selflessness and her one-of-a kind funniness.  I think she thought of herself as being a somewhat plain and ordinary individual, but she was anything but ordinary.  Her laughter was musical and contagious.  Her spirit was generous and uncommonly kind, and she loved wastefully.  She gave me my first nickname: Yakky Doodle.  (Apparently I had adorable duck lips as an infant.  They were adorable, I tell you.)  She was the queen of board games and silly songs.  She was one of the truest friends who was ready to laugh and play with you or to cry with you, listen to you and hug you if that was what was needed.  And with her recent peaceful passing, she has left a Myrt-sized hole in my heart.

My heart breaks for her two "M" daughters, Melissa and Maleigh, since I know they loved their mom even more than I did.  I am sad for those of us who are left here on earth without her, but I am also happy for the times I had with her and for the things that she taught me without even knowing it.  I have cherished memories of times spent with our hearts intertwined as she listened to my troubles.  She was as good at listening to kid-sized-troubles as she was at devoting herself to my grown-up-troubles, but mostly when I think of Myrt I will think of snort-out-loud, silly, celebratory times like this one...

Of course we were dancing in our underpants right before my wedding.

That is just what real friends do.

I love you, Myrt, and I'll miss you until we meet again, dear friend.