AND SO IT GOES…

All say, "How hard it is that we have to die" - a strange complaint to come from the mouths of people who have had to live.  ~Mark Twain

Life is interesting, as we grow from childhood: we build our lives based on our experiences. Each place we go to, each person we meet, each thing we do becomes a brick that we add to construct our memories and attitudes. Then we reach a certain age and we begin the process of tearing down the bricks, removing them one at a time, ever so slowly. People die, places no longer exist, events are forgotten.

We know a lady: Rosetta by name who recently died at a ripe old age, and yes we were expecting it to happen, for no other reason than she was ailing, was suffering from dementia, and was deaf and almost blind, in her mid-eighties.

My wife and I met this woman back in the early 90’s I believe at TLW’s (The Little Woman’s) aunt and uncle’s 25^th anniversary party. It was a party that I arranged and her family got together for. One of the people I met for the first time was this woman Rosetta, only briefly. Then about 1998, TLW’s Aunt Mary passed on, after her husband had in 1997, maybe 6 months later, and the family decided to notify Rosetta about Aunt Mary’s passing. It seems that Aunt Mary and Rosetta were old friends, going back to the 1940’s or early 1950’s at least. Some how, we became friends with Rosetta in Aunt Mary’s memory. Rosetta was a widow by the time Aunt Mary passed and was living out in the eastern part of Long Island, on the north fork.

Every so often TLW and I would take the long drive out east to visit Rosetta, usually at Rosetta’s urging and invitation, having a bar-b-q lunch with her or taking her to lunch or bringing it, and we would spend a few hours with an old lonely lady. She met both my sons, played golf with one and always asked about both of them as if they were her grandchildren. She put a very good nephew through hoops, having no children of her own, and he always did what was the very best for her, yet I think now that perhaps he is relieved of the burden of driving 90 miles to visit her.

Rosetta was an opinionated, sharp tongued and cantankerous old woman, and we both loved her. Funny, those are unlovable traits to find in someone, but she was honest, you knew where she stood, how she felt, and you could not but help be on your guard when you visited her. I guess her loneliness dictated her attitude somewhat as she became more restricted to her house because she couldn’t drive anymore.  As the years passed on we saw the transformation from an active vital lady in her early 70’s, a volunteer in a local hospital, an avid golfer, and bowled a bit too, to someone who refused to surrender her being to the ravages of old age.

She was a flirt with men, always had an innuendo to pass along, and in spite of her being cantankerous could laugh when she wanted. We did many small favors for her through the years and listened to her grief telling stories, opinions and tribulations, both from her past and present.

Rosetta was a presence, a part of our life, one in which we didn’t go kicking and screaming into friendship with, an unnecessary friendship that we treasured in actuality, she was difficult at times to listen to but always honest.

In the end she died the way she wanted, in her home, in her own bed with her memories she treasured. I guess you could say she won all her battles with doctors, nurses and health care people, triumphing over even her nephew! I think TLW and I are happy that we did what we could for her, visited her when we could and remained friends. It must be hard to die without one.

We will miss her.