Last Best Friend

 I had one last best friend. Shirley left us a day ago and the world is no longer quite the same. There's a certain colour, flavour and sound that is missing. Now that Shirley is gone, my life no longer has the same texture. Of late, she and I didn't keep in touch much but when we did, I knew there was someone in the world who understood me as no one else could. We were contemporaries. We met in the sixties doing the work we did and that's a long time ago but time doesn't mean much between friends. You can be away for months and even years, but when you hear that voice, you and your friend are back. This friend of mine and I had our snits and our very close times. At one point in life when things got off track, she was the one I could communicate with and we knew what we knew the only way friends do. We knew how the other felt and what to say and what not to. We weren't hugging friends, we were laughing friends. When times weren't very nice, we found a way to make fun of it and come out giggling like crazy. We shared private matters that no one else knew or would care to. When angry with each other, we didn't speak ,or if so, only used the most terse of terms. Like the time, we were taking sea canoeing lessons and she insisted that the person who guided the canoe was the one who sat in front while I had been told the opposite. It was one of those yes, no long drawn-out arguments that ended in silence. We were in the canoe, on the ocean, amongst the waves and silence is how we continued. Well, sort of. We got to a nice little cove and I said we should transfer positions from the front of the canoe to the back, passing each other as we had been instructed. She said no, definitely not. But I wanted to do it because we were near the shore in a shallow little bay in Jervis Inlet and it seemed quite safe even if we tipped the canoe. I started the move, all the time hearing her say, no, no, no. But I assured her, ah come on, it would be fine if we just did what the instructor told us to do. The other members were somewhat off, and it was late summer, therefore the water wouldn't be too cold. About half way along at the point where we were to transfer, somehow we both fell into the water. It was a surprise and fortunately the canoe didn't tip. Suddenly, I found myself looking at the sandy bottom with strands of seaweed wafting around me, Under water, I saw her swimming around not far off. When we surfaced she said, thanks a lot, my keys fell out of my pocket! I have to do another dive to find them. While she did that, I towed the canoe to the beach and waited. She found her keys and we got back into the canoe and caught up with the others. Silence ensued until we were at the place to disembark. We were both dripping wet. There is a term "mad as a wet hen". My friend fit it perfectly, and when I saw her face with her hair hanging down,it was the picture of fury. And for some inexplicable reason it  made me laugh. I couldn't stop laughing and in the car all the way home, I continued to laugh each time I looked at her. I tried to apologise but I could not stop laughing.  She didn't. And I didn't blame her. When we got back to our homes, next door to each other, she stomped inside without a word but I continued ha ha. To add further insult, I got my camera, went over and said, we should pose for a photo of this moment. She was a good sport and allowed it. But she and I didn't meet again for a week or two. Eventually, we got back together and I apologised profusely, this time not laughing. Now, all I have of us, is that picture. But I kind of think, she might be the one laughing.