a life well lived
Last night my friend Velda quietly "passed away" as her son told me when he called this morning. She was 97. We had planned to visit her on Wednesday, one week after her 97th birthday but she was hospitalized instead for pneumonia. I think she was tired and was ready. While I am saddened by her death part of me understands that it was her time and this is what happens. I remember when older friends of my mom died I often wondered why she didn't seem sad. She probably was on the inside but I think you come to a point where you are more accepting of death as inevitable and just another experience in life - because yes, death is a part of life, just as birth is.
Velda was one of my "church girls". Now there is only one left - Mary Alice who is 87. Thelma died several years ago - she and Velda became good friends after both of their husbands died in the early 90's. They both took water aerobic and made jokes about old ladies in swimsuits. When Thelma got colon cancer, Velda and I would visit her after church sometimes. I never once heard either of these ladies complain about any of their infirmities - the closest thing to complaining was Velda feeling bad cause she could no longer wear cute shoes!
Velda didn't attend church the last few years because she didn't want to haul her oxygen tank with her and didn't want to drive, but she sure missed it. Mary Alice and I visited her - not as often as we would have liked, but enough I think. Our last visit was at Christmas time when we brought a cake and she made coffee. I loved to sit and listen to the two of them talk about what they remembered of their childhood and early married days. Velda's husband had died about 20 years ago but was an engineer and they traveled a lot. I wish I would have taped some of our conversations over the years. It was a treasure listening to her recollections. Velda had a lot of family around and even babysat a great grandchild well into her 90's. A few years ago she went to another great grand child's wedding back East. She was loved by her children, grand and great grand children and unlike many old people, wasn't alone in the world. And she loved football games.
When Velda could still get around, she, Thelma, Mary Alice and Enid and I would go out to lunch. They always seemed so amazed that I wanted to hang out with "old ladies", but I felt lucky to be in their company. They were so much fun and inside, still girls. They brought pictures of themselves when they were younger and talked about growing up. Usually Velda and I would have a beer - like me I remember that Velda liked dark beer.
Once we all got together for my friend Vic's (Enid's husband) 99th birthday in March. It was great because at a certain age you don't have many friends who are your contemporaries. Vic at 99 had a lot to talk about with Velda who was probably in her early 90's at the time. Everyone had a good time and Vic died the following September - we had planned to get together again on his 100th but nothing can be guaranteed - especially when you are 99.
Velda was so independent. She never would let me walk her to her car when she came to church. She did however, hold my arm when we went up for communion. She didn't want to take her walker to church so depended on her cane, which made me nervous. She also used a hearing aid and sometimes it would make high pitched squeals in church and people would turn around trying to figure out what it was. She was a classy dresser - always looked so nice in her suits and scarves and her pretty wavy gray hair. She had a bout of skin cancer on her scalp and lost the hair for a while but that didn't faze her either - she just wore cute hats.
When we would visit Velda I usually brought her a beer and she would happily drink a glass with me. At Christmas I brought Baileys to put in our coffee and we all enjoyed that. She was always interested in my running and whenever I ran a marathon - the 17th mile was always hers - she said that was a really good year.
Velda was still going to church when my dad became ill. I was trying to get back to see him before he died. She told me "You just go back there and deal with whatever it is you have to. It's what you have to do.". She was right - you just have to deal with it. And I did, thinking of how many friends and family she had lost in her lifetime. She called me when my mom died too.
Velda called me when I broke my leg to see how I was and then several months ago, out of the blue, she called me and said "I love you and I think of you every day". What a nice thing for her to do. She was not afraid to say "I love you".
How lucky I am to have such great friends who provide good advice, and support me in ways they will never know. They are all like mothers to me but yet they are my friends too. They help me to see that getting older isn't a bad thing. I wish more people valued the elderly - they have so much to offer and a person really misses out if they don't get to know the older people in their lives. Besides, believe it or not, we will all be there someday if we are lucky. I know Velda never wanted to be a burden to anyone or go to a nursing home and she made that all happen by maintaining as much independence as she could, keeping a good attitude, and having a beer once in a while.
God bless you Velda - I imagine a happy reunion with your husband and also with Thelma - who will laugh so hard she will snort when she sees you. Say "hi" to my mom and dad for me and tell them I am okay. The 17th mile will always be yours!
We should all be so lucky to live at home till 97 and go out quietly without much trouble. Yes indeed, a life well lived is a good life.
Velda was one of my "church girls". Now there is only one left - Mary Alice who is 87. Thelma died several years ago - she and Velda became good friends after both of their husbands died in the early 90's. They both took water aerobic and made jokes about old ladies in swimsuits. When Thelma got colon cancer, Velda and I would visit her after church sometimes. I never once heard either of these ladies complain about any of their infirmities - the closest thing to complaining was Velda feeling bad cause she could no longer wear cute shoes!
The Church Girls. Mary Alice (L) Velda in the middle, Thelma |
Velda didn't attend church the last few years because she didn't want to haul her oxygen tank with her and didn't want to drive, but she sure missed it. Mary Alice and I visited her - not as often as we would have liked, but enough I think. Our last visit was at Christmas time when we brought a cake and she made coffee. I loved to sit and listen to the two of them talk about what they remembered of their childhood and early married days. Velda's husband had died about 20 years ago but was an engineer and they traveled a lot. I wish I would have taped some of our conversations over the years. It was a treasure listening to her recollections. Velda had a lot of family around and even babysat a great grandchild well into her 90's. A few years ago she went to another great grand child's wedding back East. She was loved by her children, grand and great grand children and unlike many old people, wasn't alone in the world. And she loved football games.
When Velda could still get around, she, Thelma, Mary Alice and Enid and I would go out to lunch. They always seemed so amazed that I wanted to hang out with "old ladies", but I felt lucky to be in their company. They were so much fun and inside, still girls. They brought pictures of themselves when they were younger and talked about growing up. Usually Velda and I would have a beer - like me I remember that Velda liked dark beer.
Once we all got together for my friend Vic's (Enid's husband) 99th birthday in March. It was great because at a certain age you don't have many friends who are your contemporaries. Vic at 99 had a lot to talk about with Velda who was probably in her early 90's at the time. Everyone had a good time and Vic died the following September - we had planned to get together again on his 100th but nothing can be guaranteed - especially when you are 99.
Velda was so independent. She never would let me walk her to her car when she came to church. She did however, hold my arm when we went up for communion. She didn't want to take her walker to church so depended on her cane, which made me nervous. She also used a hearing aid and sometimes it would make high pitched squeals in church and people would turn around trying to figure out what it was. She was a classy dresser - always looked so nice in her suits and scarves and her pretty wavy gray hair. She had a bout of skin cancer on her scalp and lost the hair for a while but that didn't faze her either - she just wore cute hats.
When we would visit Velda I usually brought her a beer and she would happily drink a glass with me. At Christmas I brought Baileys to put in our coffee and we all enjoyed that. She was always interested in my running and whenever I ran a marathon - the 17th mile was always hers - she said that was a really good year.
Velda was still going to church when my dad became ill. I was trying to get back to see him before he died. She told me "You just go back there and deal with whatever it is you have to. It's what you have to do.". She was right - you just have to deal with it. And I did, thinking of how many friends and family she had lost in her lifetime. She called me when my mom died too.
Velda called me when I broke my leg to see how I was and then several months ago, out of the blue, she called me and said "I love you and I think of you every day". What a nice thing for her to do. She was not afraid to say "I love you".
How lucky I am to have such great friends who provide good advice, and support me in ways they will never know. They are all like mothers to me but yet they are my friends too. They help me to see that getting older isn't a bad thing. I wish more people valued the elderly - they have so much to offer and a person really misses out if they don't get to know the older people in their lives. Besides, believe it or not, we will all be there someday if we are lucky. I know Velda never wanted to be a burden to anyone or go to a nursing home and she made that all happen by maintaining as much independence as she could, keeping a good attitude, and having a beer once in a while.
God bless you Velda - I imagine a happy reunion with your husband and also with Thelma - who will laugh so hard she will snort when she sees you. Say "hi" to my mom and dad for me and tell them I am okay. The 17th mile will always be yours!
We should all be so lucky to live at home till 97 and go out quietly without much trouble. Yes indeed, a life well lived is a good life.
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