Good-byes

It's funny how a death affects one. If it can be called "funny". There was a family death recently and the person was elderly and had a full, rich, comfortable life - for most of it. Those who say that young death is the worst are correct but one that is of someone you have known to be there a long time, it isn't easy either. It leaves a huge hole in your life. I suppose we believe that we are immortal and when death comes along, it's a kind of shock. It proves that we believe we are going to go on forever, even though we know we can't and when elders pass on, we miss them. When a famous building or tree is taken down, its spirit continues to reverberate in the mind. You say, life isn't quite the same without it.  The memories are there but, contrary to the saying you can live on through memories, you can't. Of course, you remember the good times, the happy events and even the comical ones. Eulogies have people smiling and laughing and that's all good.It relieves the tension. But in the quiet moments, you think of the examples of that missing life, what carried you along, even if it was very small. In the person I speak of today, I think of her walk: each step was deliberate and firm and true. I think of her strength and her quips: terse and final. She was the rock, the one who marched through  life and we all watched her confident direction and felt more able to, in part, carry out what we needed to do. She was not beautiful in the vain sense, in fact, some might say she was rather homely, but to me she had  true beauty that you saw in what she did and not how she looked. She pulled people together and was blunt about those who ignored their duty. When she was forgotten, she spoke out and said that she didn't like it. There were no elephants under her carpet and none allowed. Some people disliked her but they didn't disrespect her. When she had a terrible accident and had to wear a device that was not only demeaning but uncomfortable, she complained in honesty but didn't allow it to stop her from marching onward. To her, it was just another challenge that she could take on. Her beliefs were strong, sometimes too strong for others to understand, but she didn't waver. And no one tried to change her mind. It was simply what she was. And she knew herself. She would listen to the reason of others who tried to influence her, but after a thought or two, she'd stay with what she could live with thank-you very much. There were times when her human weakness showed through and if you were present, you felt privileged to be permitted to see her seldom revealed vulnerability. You could go to her and tell her your problems and she would, after a moment or two of staring into your soul,  utter a couple of firm words and get up and walk away. She did not tolerate wimps. If there was a problem, you dealt with it or you didn't come around and "belly ache" to her. Just do it and get it over with, she'd say. Then she'd head for the coffee or tea pot and sit with you while you contemplated. End of conversation, time for consideration. If you came back and told her that you had solved your situation, she would give you a one-word answer: good or fine or okay. She didn't want to listen to a long diatribe of the whys and wherefores. To her, life was simple and direct and subtlety was not brooked. And so simply, briefly and in her style, I make my farewell. Good-bye Rose.