Sights, sounds, scents. All can unexpectedly evoke images in our mind and memory of someone we loved who is no longer here with us. The smell of doughnuts frying reminds me of my beloved aunt. The sight of candy corn in the fall always makes me smile as I remember a special association with my uncle. My dad's favorite song still makes me cry every time I hear it. Red candles remind me of my friend, gone far too soon.
Today, as we mourn the loss of my mother's closest friend, a woman who has been there with my mom through the deaths of two husbands, the raising of children, the horrors of adolescence, the joys of being grandparents, countless church pot lucks, Vacation Bible School weeks, and most especially, raising their voices together as they put faith in action through song, I am thinking about the distinctive laugh that was her hallmark. I can hear it now in my mind, as she exclaims, "Oh Donald," over something her husband said or did, laughing out loud even as she was exasperated with him.
It is hard to put into words what your parents' close friends mean to you. In some ways, they are closer than anyone, because they are so much a part of your everyday life. My mother saw her friend, Helen, many times a week for more than 60 years, and when I was young, I was usually along for the ride. You don't realize at the time just how important those people are to you, because you assume they will always be there. It is easy to take for granted what you have always had. At least until it is suddenly ripped away.
Helen was, first and foremost, a wife and mother. She was a devoted wife, caring for her sweet and funny husband long past the time when it was manageable. She delighted in cooking for everyone, and her house was always open and welcoming, a treat never far away. She was an active parent, and could often be found wherever her children were participating. She was proud of her children and their accomplishments, and she was never happier than when her children were shining in whatever they were doing.
Last summer when I was visiting, my mom and I stopped by to see Helen, because my mom needed to give her something. When we came in (you couldn't just stop on the doorstep, going in the house was a requisite,) there was a delicious scent permeating the house. Helen asked if we wanted a little bite of her new dessert she had just made, and I almost said no. But then I realized she had made it especially for us, knowing we would be stopping by. So of course we had to have some, (and of course it was amazing, as her treats usually were.) How sorry I am that I will never again sit in the sun room with her, eating something yummy and telling her about my life.
But beyond that, her passion in life was teaching children, and she shared lessons every day with every child she met. Her teaching went beyond school lessons; one of my favorite things to do at her house was an educational toy that made learning fun. She left a lasting legacy with my son, as he still ties his shoes the way she taught him so long ago. Her love of children made her a gift to them, as she poured her energy into making learning fun. Generations of children benefited from her passionate love of teaching.
Although there are many things I will cherish in my memory about Helen, it is her laugh that I will miss hearing as much as anything. Tonight, as I was practicing the anthem her ladies chorus will be singing at her funeral, I could hear her laughing down on us from heaven, enjoying the spirited song we will sing in her honor.
Rest in peace, dearest Helen. You are not gone, because you will always be in our hearts and our memories. I know that one day you will again meet up with my mom, and you will laugh and sing together with the angels for all eternity. It is that faith, quietly shared by you and my mom, which makes this moment bearable for those you have left behind.
You lived well. You laughed often (and loudly.) And you loved many, without reserve. There is no better legacy.
