Tribute to a Friend

I grew up thinking that everyone has a very special friend in their life. One that lasts for life. Well, I have since found this not to be true for everyone. There are a few of us that are blessed to have this and we need to really cherish that friend.
When I was still a baby, my mother would sit by Freeda Schofield at Relief Society and other functions. Freeda had a baby girl just a couple of weeks younger than me. My mother said that when we saw each other we would both get so excited. We became friends almost instantly. I believe we were friends in heaven. As we grew up we spent a lot of time together. She lived in Hiko, I lived in Alamo. Sometimes I would ride the bus home with her and spend the night on a Friday. Sometimes she would stay in Alamo and spend the night at my house on a Friday.
There were a few years that we drifted apart a little. I made some friends in town that would come and go. She had other interests at times. But we always remained friends and during High School we were pretty much inseparable. I have some really great memories of times spent with her.
But my tribute to my friend is for more than that. It is for the type of friend that she is. When I am happy, she is so excited for me. When I am down she builds me up and brings me back. No matter how long it has been since I have seen her, we pick right up where we left off. But the thing that I love the most about her is that she makes me feel like a better person for knowing her. She loves my family and I love hers. She is the best listener I have ever met. She really listens and cares. AND she remembers what I have told her. I hope I am the same to her.
One story I want to tell about her. She had a son on a mission in Russia. He was stabbed and killed. She was stalwart through it all, a fine example to me. That was over 10 years ago, but I just sent my youngest son on a mission and I was suffering. I almost felt like I had lost him. One day when I had been over to Utah on a visit, I was on my way home and stopped at Maverick to get some fuel. I walked in to the bathroom there and ran into my dear friend. She was headed the other way back to Provo. She sensed that I was suffering, because she knows me better than anyone else I can think of. She stopped and took me to lunch and visited with me for a couple of hours. I was ashamed to tell her that I was suffering over a son going on a mission, after all she had one that never came home. But she assured me that my pain was important, too. By the time we finished visiting I felt like a new person. No one can do that for me like she can.
I am so blessed to have this friend. Rebecca (Becki to me) Schofield Mackintosh. I love you friend.