Earlier this week while out taking my afternoon walk with Sam E. Beagle and Missy dog, I thought about a recent email from my childhood friend, Linda. She told me of her New Year's Eve trip to the neighborhood we grew up in ; A quiet, quaint cul de sac in the plain Jane suburb city of Bell. Hers was a bittersweet path to the past, not only because she revisited long gone days of youth, where we spent day after day roller skating, riding matching pink and white Schwinn bikes and playing with baby dolls, paper dolls and Barbie dolls , but because two days later it would mark the 21st anniversary of her mother's death.
We have a long history, Linda and me; Only 4 years old when we met, becoming instant play pals and life long friends.
From the start, our mothers were the very best of friends. In fact, I learned about the meaning of friendship from observing my mom and Patsy - their joy in being together, their faithfulness and fidelity one to the other: Good times and bad times, no matter what - they stuck like glue .
In her email Linda wrote about turning onto Southhall Court and Southhall Lane , and for just a moment envisioned her mom standing at the fence like she did so many years ago. I recall a similar image of Patsy. It was the late 1950's and my family didn't have a phone, so if someone needed to reach my parents they'd dial Patsy's number. I can still hear Patsy hollering from her driveway, " Lenore , the phone's for you". To some , it may seem quirky and unsophisticated, but in truth it was friendly and familar. Endearing and sweet.
It was sitting in Linda's driveway that her mom taught us how to play " Jacks", and the first time I ate a taco was at Linda's when her mom made homemade tacos - long before Taco Bell, Del Taco and a hundrend other taco stands on every southern California corner. To this day, Patsy's taco's are the best I've ever had.
Patsy also taught me to crochet. And my brother, Walt remembers she and her husband Lawrance bought him his first pair of cowboy boots when he was only six years old. In later years Patsy hosted my wedding shower and baby shower. It would be impossible to think about the highlights of my life without including Patsy. She loved us, and we loved her. It was heartbreaking, and seemed unreal when Patsy died at the young age of 55. Younger than Linda and I are now.
As I walked along the wooded trail , I continued to think about Linda and Patsy , wishing Linda was nearby so I could give her a hug . I wanted to tell her how special I think her mother was, and how proud I am of her for carrying on through the challenges of her own life in such a strong, positive way; knowing her mother would be proud of her, too.
No loss ever compares to the loss of a loved one. While it's true the sun will continue to rise each and every morning , just as its done for hundreds of years, nothing is never, ever quite the same after the death of one we loved so dear; A small part of us dies, too. It's only in the remembering we keep them near.
We have a long history, Linda and me; Only 4 years old when we met, becoming instant play pals and life long friends.
From the start, our mothers were the very best of friends. In fact, I learned about the meaning of friendship from observing my mom and Patsy - their joy in being together, their faithfulness and fidelity one to the other: Good times and bad times, no matter what - they stuck like glue .
In her email Linda wrote about turning onto Southhall Court and Southhall Lane , and for just a moment envisioned her mom standing at the fence like she did so many years ago. I recall a similar image of Patsy. It was the late 1950's and my family didn't have a phone, so if someone needed to reach my parents they'd dial Patsy's number. I can still hear Patsy hollering from her driveway, " Lenore , the phone's for you". To some , it may seem quirky and unsophisticated, but in truth it was friendly and familar. Endearing and sweet.
It was sitting in Linda's driveway that her mom taught us how to play " Jacks", and the first time I ate a taco was at Linda's when her mom made homemade tacos - long before Taco Bell, Del Taco and a hundrend other taco stands on every southern California corner. To this day, Patsy's taco's are the best I've ever had.
Patsy also taught me to crochet. And my brother, Walt remembers she and her husband Lawrance bought him his first pair of cowboy boots when he was only six years old. In later years Patsy hosted my wedding shower and baby shower. It would be impossible to think about the highlights of my life without including Patsy. She loved us, and we loved her. It was heartbreaking, and seemed unreal when Patsy died at the young age of 55. Younger than Linda and I are now.
As I walked along the wooded trail , I continued to think about Linda and Patsy , wishing Linda was nearby so I could give her a hug . I wanted to tell her how special I think her mother was, and how proud I am of her for carrying on through the challenges of her own life in such a strong, positive way; knowing her mother would be proud of her, too.
No loss ever compares to the loss of a loved one. While it's true the sun will continue to rise each and every morning , just as its done for hundreds of years, nothing is never, ever quite the same after the death of one we loved so dear; A small part of us dies, too. It's only in the remembering we keep them near.
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