Friday, February 27, 2015

One of Those Days...

It has been crisp and overcast here today, very wintry looking and a situation which matches my mood at the moment. My dear friend Pauline, who passed away at the end of June, would have been fifty-four today. I sent card to her daughters and husband, and a hand made card for her granddaughter, who will be one year old in July.

Apart from keeping myself busy with household tasks of the most mundane, it has been quiet, almost as if a part of me has slipped away somewhere. Because she lived across the country after our college years, and the small house Pauline shared with her maternal grandmother during that time has long been inhabited by others, there is no particular place for me to go. She wasn't one for sitting at headstones and crying. Her family has contributed to a park near their now former home in her memory and I was happy to make a donation as well.

Since her passing, her oldest daughter and her husband and baby, accompanied by Pauline's husband, have upped sticks and moved to a major city in the Midwest where new jobs and a fresh start awaited them. It has been a slow and difficult process and one they take day by day. The baby, whose birth occurred two weeks after Pauline's departure, is the apple of everyone's eye. Healthy and thus far even tempered, she smiles and gurgles readily and appears to love the pieces of music her grandmother once played on the piano she had since childhood. Her granddad is her caretaker during working hours and has made music a regular and hopefully enduring part of this little girl's life.

As for me, I think of Pauline a lot, mostly because, until her illness, we were on the phone several times every week, across miles, the multitude of changes the happen with each life transition, crisis, moment of unanticipated loveliness and the complications that comprise our years. I miss her laughter and the steadiness of regular communication. I have tried to fill the breach as best I can long distance for both of her daughters and look forward to the day when our conversations move from the rawness of loss to the new generation's adventures. Knowing someone from the age of nineteen to fifty-three is a privilege. I will look for her loveliness in the stars she prized and always took the time to gaze upon...

Until Next Time...


4 comments:

Brian Miller said...

i am sorry for your loss...and the echo of it that carries forward....
she def sounds like one to be missed...i hope that when my time comes i leave behind those
that care this much...smiles.

Secret Agent Woman said...

Oh, I'm sorry.

the fly in the web said...

I am so very sorry....

Steve Reed said...

It's great that you're maintaining contact with her family. I'm sure that helps all of you with the loss. Still, it is a long process, I'm sure.