Perfect Wings
I just said good-bye to one of my best friend’s mother tonight.
One day my friend Lisa introduced me to this very talkative skinny girl named Chris. Chris was like no one else I have ever met.
I can’t remember how my world became whisked into hers after that, but since about second grade we have been friends.
I met her mom – also very talkative.
Miss Ann had polio and had to be in a wheelchair.
This was different from my other friends’ moms to be sure.
Her dad groomed dogs in their basement. BIG dogs that resembled bears to me.
Everything about that household was different.
Miss Ann would show me her latest dance steps she learned, there was no matter if she was in a wheel chair.
Little did I know that was to be like a second home to me in a very short while.
I could walk in their door and not knock, it wasn’t expected, in fact, I think it might have offended them if I had.
I could come and just sit, and vent, and Miss Ann would listen and tease.
I suppose during the middle to late teens, I spent about as much time at her house as I did my own.
Miss Ann’s house hosted my first baby shower, my going away to Europe party, and embraced many of my milestones.
What a comfort to know that along with my own family, I had an extended one.
She enjoyed company, and that’s a good thing, the house was always alive with people.
Tonight was the same. Alive with people. Laughter and tears, family and friends, tributes from her granddaughter Britney with her great grandson making his little noises in the background.
I hope Miss Ann is dancing in heaven and a little hummingbird lands on her finger.
I can see her smile…
Who knows…could be.
My sincere condolences.
I remember one time on one of my too few visits, you took me to their house. Your description reminded me of my Uncle Tom’s funeral. At the “viewing” there was so much laughter and unmistakable Joy amoung the family a visitor said, you know last month I was here to bury my family member, (I can’t remember which one, I’ve slept since then) any way, he went on to say how it had been so sad, folks crying and everything so sad and quiet. He said, I don’t know what makes this different, but it’s what I want when I die. We then went on to explain, that while we would miss our beloved uncle, father, brother, husband… we knew that we had not lost him. We knew where he was and that we would see him again. At the funeral service, dad gave spoke about the times he had shared with Tom, and the memories we all had of family reunions shared. The family shoulders were shaking in the pews, but not from tears. We were all tryin to hold back our laughter and snickers as we remembered the joy we had all shared. Isn’t it wonderful to know that death can be a celebration of the life that was given and the promise of new life to come? Thanks for bringing back my own treasures of family time shared.