Before you died I didn’t think about you every day. I saw you mostly during Coffee Hour, after the church services, or at meetings.
I listened intently as you gave me some of the best advice I ever received. Most recently, it was recommendation about my grandson’s school, about using text messages and about dealing with conflicting issues within the church. You were so wise, so funny, so caring. I heard all these attributes articulated over and over at your memorial service.
But now that you’ve physically left this earth, I’ve been missing you more. Strangely, from this agnostic’s point of view, I feel a daily connection when I take a close look at your magnificent, mature pink geranium. After your memorial service, your daughter left a dozen or so of these huge, healthy houseplants on a table at church. She invited anyone who wanted a plant, to take one home, and I did.
Mine should do well, by a large window with plenty of light. When I touch it, and immediately smell the strong scent from the geranium, it’s as if you are flipping me some of your thoughts. Perhaps you’re saying thanks for taking care of one of the plants. Perhaps it’s a reminder for us to continue attention and care on that wonderful little boy you helped place in the right school for him. Perhaps it’s none of these, but for me, I think with fondness about my old friend who I miss and remember every day.
Blessings to you Carolyn, for thirty-eight years of friendship.