I became friends with a woman 40 years older than me. She taught me how to live.

I met Marlee in a writing group. At the time, I was in my 30s with two young kids living in a starter house. She had responded to an ad that another writer friend and I had posted. We were looking to expand our critique group. Marlee’s response was something along the lines of, “If you don’t mind an old lady showing up, I’d love to join you.”

I wasn’t sure what to expect. When Marlee walked in, she sat down and, in her blunt way, which I would come to grow to love over the next decade plus, said, “I told you I was old.”

She completed our small group, which also consisted of two men and my original writer friend. We met a few times a month at local coffee shops and restaurants. We sent pages from whatever we were working on. I wrote absurd, sometimes scary, short stories. Marlee wanted to write a memoir about her life.

We could not have been more different, at least in terms of our lives. Her kids were grown and had kids of their own. I was raising a young family. She was a retiree living in an in-law apartment within her son’s family home. She had been married for decades. I had two kids and a husband and was still trying to figure out who (and what) I wanted to be when I grew up.

We had a 40-year age difference

Despite a 40-year age difference, our friendship thrived. We met for our group and for fun. Marlee invited another writing group member and me to her home for wine and appetizers. The two male members of our writing group dropped out. The three of us, Marlee, E.J., and I, remained. We met the orange cat with the big personality, whom Marlee often spoke of in the group. Peaches welcomed us, purring and head bumping us as we talked.

I invited Marlee to visit when we purchased our forever home. We ate cheese and crackers while we laughed about raising kids and marriage. She sent a present to the baby shower I had for my third child. It was a funny children’s book that matched her own sense of humor. When Marlee’s husband died, I attended the funeral. We became part of each other’s lives, even beyond our writing group. We were friends, no matter our age difference.

She taught me important life lessons

Marlee taught me some important lessons, including the importance of finding humor even in the most difficult times, as she had. She wrote about it often in the pages she shared with our writing group. I also learned another invaluable lesson from Marlee, that life goes on no matter what. She was a shining example of that. After the death of her husband, Marlee not only adjusted to life without him but thrived in so many ways. I think she even surprised herself and her kids.

Marlee also taught me that age is literally just a number. Her wit and playful outlook were those of someone young, full of life and promise. She also shared the dark parts of aging, the invisibility she felt.

We also became each other’s biggest cheerleaders when it came to our writing. She would jot notes on the pages I sent to her for each group. I still have them even now. I look at them for inspiration and encouragement. She enjoyed my wit and imagination, and I marveled at her gift for writing with honesty and humor, and for making her life story truly come alive.

I miss the bond we had

I think what really created a unique bond between us was the life details we shared in both our writing and our many conversations. I had seen snippets of her past from her childhood to her life as a mother and grandmother. She traveled, married a military man, and landed where I hoped I would one day end up — retired and having the privilege of watching her children parent their own children. I envied the life she’d made and the journey it took her to get there.

Over the past several years, we have maintained contact. It’s been hard. We are still friends on Facebook and have occasionally connected. I miss her and the bond we had. No matter where we end up, though, I will always be grateful for the things she’s taught me and for our unique friendship.