My Journey with Farrah - Alana Stewart [84]
I came home and petted my dogs for a long time. They haven’t gotten much attention from me lately. I didn’t turn on the television, for a change, but put on some soft classical music, lit the candle in my bathroom, and got into a hot bath. I lay there for a long time, thinking about my friend…my beautiful friend. How could this have happened to her? I thought back over all the events of these past two years as I soaked in the soothing water. Where has the time gone? Two years ago today, she, Ryan, and I were at the clinic, her first trip there. It seems a lifetime ago. Lolita came in and lay down beside the tub, something she never does. She could feel my sadness. It felt like I had an ocean of tears inside me, but they were locked up too tightly to escape.
What will happen now? I don’t feel optimistic about the coming days, but she’s rallied before, my friend. As I said to Ryan tonight, “Farrah never likes to do the expected. She likes to be unpredictable. Maybe she’ll surprise us…” I hope so. I’m going to sleep now, or at least I’ll try to, but I’ll leave my phone on as always.
June 15, 2009
I got a phone call from Ryan today to tell me Farrah was being moved to the ICU because her blood pressure was so low. He was completely choked up. It didn’t sound good at all. I said I would get ready and come to the hospital right away but he said he’d call me from there once she’d been moved. I called Dr. Piro, who said to wait a couple of hours so they could get her settled in. The ICU has all these rules about visiting, so I had to wait until eight thirty to go. She was lying there looking small and frail, yet her face, as skeletal as it is now, still looked beautiful.
I sat by her bed and stroked her arm as she looked at me. An almost otherworldly stare. I needed to tell her some things before it was too late. “Honey,” I said, “I never really tell you how much you mean to me, but I love you so much. Like a sister.”
She looked up at me and said softly, “More than a sister…”
My eyes welled up with tears as I continued. “If I’ve ever said or done anything that hurt you in any way, I want you to know I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry we had that fight in the car on the way to the airport.” I was openly crying now. I could tell by her eyes that she understood every word.
Then, I added, “And I want to thank you for being my friend and for all you’ve done for me. For letting me be a part of the documentary. It’s touched so many people, Farrah. You can’t imagine what a wonderful thing you’ve done…” She softly said, “Ohhh, honey,” and with tremendous effort raised her frail little arms to hold me. We held each other for a long time, and afterward I looked at her and said, “You’re tired, aren’t you? This has been a long few years.” She looked up at me and nodded. “Yes.” I knew I had to ask her: “Do you still want to keep fighting?” She said softly, “Yes.”
“Good,” I said, “because if you do, we’re fighting with you, but if you get too tired, that’s okay, too.” She looked at me and nodded. I kissed her forehead and we were silent for a while. I felt like I’d said what I needed to say. She knew we were behind her, whatever she chose to do.
Mela came into the room soon after with some fan letters she’d picked up at the apartment and two of Farrah’s rosaries. “Can I join the party?” she asked. I think Farrah was happy to have her girls gathered around her. I talked about some of our Germany trips and the cocktail we always drank on Lufthansa. Farrah clearly said, “Why can’t we have one?” We laughed about how Farrah always falls asleep the minute she gets into a car or anything that moves. We said, as soon as she was better, we’d take that Texas road trip and Mela would help me drive. I told Farrah that a very important magazine was doing a cover on her and she said, “They are?” I nodded, and continued, “And there’s talk that you might win an Emmy for the documentary.”
“Really?” She seemed surprised. Farrah was always surprised when she got accolades for her work. Then she said, barely