WHEN IS IT TIME TO DIE?

Yesterday I visited a dear old friend, one whom I’ve known for over 25 years. She is a simple person, one of decency and good will, one who spread cheer and whatever she owns is yours for the asking. Over the last 5 years or so, she would call me or I would call her, and we would chat about nothing at all, and everything there is to talk about. Over those five years, I noticed that her conversations became more repetitive with each chat, and I began to worry. She would ask me the same question over and over again, sometimes in the span of five minutes. Many a time she would call me to come to her home to fix her computer, to set it up or get it to work again, and again she would ask the same questions.

This lovely lady was the secretary to a boss of mine, a gentleman in his own right, who deserved such a secretary. She was loyal to her boss and to anyone who befriended her. When I first joined the company, she came to me with a map of the company floor plan and helped me immeasurably to acquaint myself with the physical and mental parts of my job. She is a good friend, kind and generous.

If you were her friend you commented on her homemade cheesecake, or her Irish soda bread. She took great pride in her pesto sauce, and loved to show it all off, and rightfully so. When I was having special guests over for dinner one weekend, I asked her to make me a cheesecake. She made one for me that was perfect in every way, a crust that was uniformly perfect, creamy cheese filling, and strawberries that stood atop of the cake, every square inch of it, in a soldier like perfection!

She was also a seamstress, apparently so well thought of that she taught sewing to people at BOCES teaching: how to make women’s suits and jackets, dresses etc. She was an artist. She took great pride in her appearance, wearing beautiful blouses, with fine colors, mostly peach or pink, and her hair was always perfect.

Every year she would organize the luncheon for the ten million dollar winner, arranging the silverware and china, with crystal glasses, set up in the conference room, and neatly pile the most wonderful sandwiches, which were catered, onto a rolling tray in the company kitchen, which was adjacent to the cafeteria. They would close all the lights in the cafeteria where the whole company would be watching the presentation that was made to the winner, and while that was going on, I would slip into the kitchen, and “Liberate” a sandwich for lunch! After a while, she started to order extra food so I could bring some home to the family.

I hadn’t heard from her for a while, tried to phone her, and feared the worst, then last year about this time, I received a Christmas card from her daughter informing me that the reason I haven’t heard from her was because she had fallen ill, was incapacitated on her floor for a few days, that a friend of hers had found her in that state and she now resides in a nursing home. She now suffers from dementia, and so I am now visiting someone else.

It saddens me to write about her plight, but it would sadden me even more if I didn’t acknowledge it and her, and celebrate our friendship. She is indeed a shell of her former self, but she does me a great honor, she remembers me, she remembers my shenanigans and my tricks, she even remembers the handmade birthday cards I would make for her, and the great laughs we shared as friends!

I often see people like her, some suffer from retardation, some from dementia, some from physical disabilities, and I want to reach inside their hearts and minds and tell them: “Don’t despair, I want to help you with your burden, maybe we can laugh along the way.”

The Bible tells us that there is a time to laugh, and a time to cry, today I feel like crying.