On Sunday my phone lit up with one of my favorite names: Julia Bootcamp. Her name is Julia, and I met her at Bootcamp a few seasons ago. I never knew that you could still meet a friend like her at 39. Cheerful, cheeky, the best hostess ever: Julia just knows how to make you feel good.
If too many days go by, I send her a text: "I miss you. I need some Julia!"
So naturally I answered with great delight, "Hello!"
Her cheerful voice was filled with something I had never heard from my friend.
"Roberto's been knocked off his bike. I've gotten a call from the gendarmerie to come down and see them. I don't know what to do--should I take the girls?"
Now, in this moment, my biggest downfall perhaps became my greatest strength. I'm a worrier, and I often fear the worst. Julia has two daughters the same ages as ours.
"Take the girls," I said.
And that was it. The minutes ticked by and eventually a text.
"The worst has happened. Pls don't call".
The rest of this story is one that happened in quiet and rending moments. In deep places you fear to go, but are pulled in without warning, and without hesitation when it means going there to help someone.
I can't tell you that story, because in that place you take an oath to take someone else's pain and keep it somewhere safe, away from the world to see.
My words are hidden somewhere and I don't think they are coming out this time, so while my friend is leaning on me through these unjust days that no wife should live, I will lean on someone else's words to make sense of this senseless moment.
Roberto and Julia Migliaccio