MUSIC & ME #6
Last week a friend and former neighbor passed over. She lived a full, courageous, successful life. In spite of the omission of her age from the newspaper obituary, I know she was over 80. The last time I saw her, at a dinner party at my home in late October, she looked 65 — robust, laughing heartily, talking enthusiastically, and filling the air with her well-told stories.
Now she is gone.
At that time, no one knew cancer was already writing the final chapter of her life — its secret intrusion coursing through her body, sabotaging the good health we witnessed as we dined and chatted, catching up on activities experienced during the several months we’d been apart.
Now she is gone.
Since she and her wife moved from our old neighborhood six years ago, we saw each other occasionally but not often enough. They travel; I work. We often ran into one another at events — art shows, festivals, political rallies. They visited our old home in the old neighborhood a few times. We visited the first place they lived but not the second.
Now she is gone.
I am grateful for that last evening with her, grateful for having her as a neighbor and friend. She sold me her old car when mine was falling apart, my credit was in the dumps, and my options were few. I paid what I could each month. She inspired me with her social and political activism. The writing career (she published three books) that she started in her late 60’s gave me hope that it wasn’t too late for me.
Now she is gone.
Today is her memorial. We will say good-bye one last time as I remember that night in October waving to her and her wife as they drove from our house, never thinking it was the last time I would see her.
Now she is gone.
Here is a song that has given me comfort over the past few days:
