My Friend Connie

In 2018, I was divorced and living in Florida. I had been on Match.com for a little over a year at that point, and I was sick of it. If you’ve never had the pleasure of using an online dating site, count yourself lucky. It can turn into a full-time job, and at it’s worst, it can be humiliating. Even so, it’s the best way to meet a potential partner (or so I am told).

Anyway, although I was living in Florida at the time, I was also spending a decent amount of time in Wisconsin. So, as an act of desperation, I began looking at dating profiles for women in Wisconsin. But after looking at a few profiles, I gave up. What was the point? Wisconsin was twenty-three hours away from my home in Florida. Even if I met someone, how would I manage the logistics of a long-distance relationship?

If you’ve never used Match.com you may not know that one of the perks of being a paying member is that you get to see who has viewed your profile. That’s how Connie, one of the women who’s profile I viewed, knew that I had looked at her profile. The next day, she wrote to me and said simply, “It’s too bad you don’t live closer.”

I wrote back and told her that I agreed, which was the start to a conversation that went on for a couple of weeks. We really hit it off, and the more we talked, the more interested we both became. I was planning a trip to Wisconsin three or four weeks in the future, so Connie and I agreed we’d get together for dinner while I was in the area.

As luck would have it, about a week after Connie and I agreed to meet, I met another woman in Florida. Things started moving pretty fast, and in short order, the Florida woman and I decided to become exclusive. Although I was excited about my new relationship, I was nervous about telling Connie. Even so, it was the right thing to do. So, I told her that I had met someone, and that we had agreed not to see other people. Connie couldn’t have been better about it. She said meeting someone was the whole reason we were on Match, and she wished us luck.

I didn’t talk to Connie again for the next four years. The relationship that came between Connie and I ran its course, and I made the decision to sell my house in Florida and move back to Wisconsin (Don’t judge me!). I told some friends about Connie, and they encouraged me to reach out to her. They reasoned that we were once interested in each other, and since I was moving back to Wisconsin, why not contact her. What they were saying made sense. Even so, it seemed kind of creepy. I hadn’t spoken to this woman for four years. What kind of stalker does something like that?

Then my brother encouraged me to contact Connie. “What have you got to lose?” he asked. Again, what he was saying made total sense, but after thinking a bit about it, I again felt weird. I doubted if she’d even remember me, let alone be interested in talking to me, so I didn’t contact her.

For whatever reason, the day I closed on my house in Florida, I decided to send Connie a text. It felt strange reaching back out to someone I hadn’t spoken to in so long, but whatever inhibitions I had about contacting her seemed to fade that day.

It took a couple of hours, but I got a text back from Connie. To my surprise, she remembered me. And although it took a few back-and-forth texts, we settled into the same comfortable exchange we had experienced previously. Sadly, the day I reached out to her for the first time in four years was the same day she found out she had an aggressive form of breast cancer.

For months, while Connie went through cancer treatments, we stayed in touch, texting or talking nearly every day. We grew closer, even though we still hadn’t met each other face-to-face. As you can imagine, Connie wasn’t in the right head space to be thinking about dating. She had other things to worry about. The breast cancer treatments were rough at times. At one point, Connie suffered a heart attack related to the treatments, although in typical Connie fashion, she played it off like it was nothing.

I’m honestly not sure what changed for Connie, but at some point, she decided we should get together. We met up for pizza at a little hole-in-the-wall place she had heard good things about. We met and I was pleased to see that Connie was doing well, despite her treatments. We talked and laughed and had a great time, until I saw a sign on the wall that said “Cash Only.” We had already had a couple of drinks, and our pizza was on its way. The good news was, they had an ATM. Unfortunately, I had just gotten a new debit card, and it wouldn’t work (I later found out I connected it to the wrong account). Connie tried her debit card and it didn’t work either. We were in a panic. We pooled all the cash we had and came up with just enough to cover our tab. It was a hilarious, embarrassing situation.

We got together a few more times, and the more time we spent together, the more we became close friends. We celebrated together when Connie’s cancer treatments ended, we mourned together when my dog passed away, and we were both in shock when Connie learned that her cancer had come roaring back. The doctors told her that there was nothing they could do to get rid of the cancer. The best they could do was give her chemo to keep the cancer from getting worse.

Connie knew she didn’t have long to live. The doctor said it could be as much as three years, but Connie wasn’t buying it. She made plans to do as much as possible with the short time she had left. She sold her condo and moved in with her daughter, son-in-law, and granddaughter. They fixed up a mother-in-law’s suite in her daughter’s house, and Connie and Kristin (her daughter) set out to see the world. First, they went to Paris and London, two places Connie always wanted to see. Then they spent time in Cape Cod, and St. Croix, and Chicago. They also made trips to Houston (MD Anderson Cancer Center) and Rochester, MN (Mayo Clinic), for second opinions.

Then Connie got the news that her cancer had spread, first to her lungs, then her spine, then to her brain. The doctors thought they could combat the brain cancer with radiation, but it became clear pretty quickly that their plan wasn’t going to work.

Between the cancer, the chemo, and the radiation, Connie’s body began to fail. She experienced hypoxia (low oxygen) and dizziness, and had to be admitted to the hospital. Tests revealed that the cancer in her lungs had gotten much worse. In talking with her oncologist, Connie made the decision to stop all treatments. Within a few days, Connie went into hospice where she could be kept as comfortable as possible. We’d known for months how all of this would end, but I didn’t think things would get this bad this quickly.

Kristin asked that Connie’s friends write a letter she could share with her mom. This is what I wrote to Connie to let her know my feelings toward her and what she has meant in my life.

Dear Connie –

It breaks my heart to write this letter to you. I had hoped we’d have more time to spend together, but I guess God has other plans.

I want you to know how much you have meant to me over these past few years. We have shared some of our best and some of our most difficult times with each other. I am so thankful to have had you as a friend, even if it wasn’t for as long as I would have liked. You are one of the toughest, sweetest, strongest, most caring people I have ever known. You have brightened my life, and I will forever be grateful.

I don’t mean to be selfish, but this is all ending too quickly for me. I want to talk to you and see you again. I want us to laugh together some more, and if need be, share some tears. You have been a good and caring friend, and I will miss you.

I pray that the journey you are about to take is a good one. If there is a Log Tavern Pizza in Heaven, please be sure to save me a seat.

All my love,

Lou

Connie passed away yesterday, May 23, 2025. She was a wonderful person, a loving mother and grandmother, and a truly good friend. I mourn her loss. I’m grateful to have known her, and I will miss her.