Monday, March 04, 2013

I was supposed to

I was supposed to write about my friend's mother who passed away in February. At her wake I asked him if I could write something about her here. He said i could.

I haven't written anything. I meant to write about how, among all the other parents in my neighborhood, she stood out as one of the ones who actually liked me.

She gave me a Raggedy Ann book once, that I took home and scribbled my name all over in huge, lopsided craggy letters.  I still have that book on my bookshelf.

I remember her as an excellent cook, an excellent gardener, who used to leave pie plates of beer in her garden to catch slugs.

I remember her impatience and exasperation at us the time that we decided to cast fishing lines in the field across the street and my friends little brother got a fish hook caught in the seat of his jeans.

I remember that she kept an incredibly cozy house. When I am reading a book and imagining in my head a home, my friends old house is one of the settings I picture in my head. It's usually a toss up between that house or my cousin Jean's house.

That woman kept a magical home, I can't describe it really, but there was something about it that was infinitely warm and safe. Especially for a child who felt insecure for a majority of the time.

That house is long gone, every time I drive past where it used to be, at the bottom of the hill next to my old elementary school, I get sad.

Diane is gone now too. The last time I saw her was at my own mother's wake 10 years ago. She read it in the paper and told my friend to come to it with her. I was surprised and grateful for that gesture.

She passed on too soon. She was lovely and I wish that I could have bumped into her again after that wake.

(Sighing and hanging my head)- That's all I got for today. Nothing funny here today folks.


  1. I'm so sorry for your losses. It's funny how the small acts of kindnesses by adults when we are children stay with us. I have a pair of Raggedy Ann & Andy pictures a neighbor mom gave me when I was 4 or 5. They hang in my boys' room. I always planned to write about that one day, I think you've given me the inspiration. Thinking of you.

  2. Thank you Marianne! XO