Enid's tribute
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He referred to the dates on her tombstone
From the beginning…to the end.
He noted that first came the date of her birth
And spoke of the following date with tears,
But he said what mattered most of all
Was the dash between those years.
For that dash represents all the time
That she spent alive on earth
And now only those who love her
Know what that little line is worth.
For it matters not, how much we own,
The cars…the house…the cash.
What matters is how we live and love
And how we spend our dash.
I want to tell you a little bit of what I know about how Enid spent her dash. I was lucky to have gotten to know her and spend some of this time with her. My only regret is that I didn't get to know her sooner. We first met when my son delivered newspapers to her house. Bruce actually knew her before me as he often helped to shovel their driveway...and once went over to prevent Vic, at 90 something, from climbing up on his roof to fix his swamp cooler. When Bruce offered to climb up on the roof, Vic said, “Well you will break too if you fall off”.
I found out Enid had high blood pressure so I went over on Saturdays at first just to check her pressure. Those visits turned into more and the blood pressure often didn't get measured – I would sit with her and Vic, and have a beer and talk about all sorts of things they remembered – how she used to sing with him in a Jazz band. He played the trumpet and years ago, in the summer with the windows open, we could hear him practicing. I sure wish I could have heard Enid sing. They told me stories about the neighborhood and the big field that existed where our house is now and how there used to be a drive in theatre up on 33rd south where the Smith's food king is now. I also learned about some of the infamous people who lived in our neighborhood. We looked at old pictures and it was obvious the Enid and Vic had a good life together...and a lot of fun with Sherry their daughter, Duane, and Robby their grandson.
When Vic died, Enid missed him terribly. We resumed our visits but usually went out for breakfast or lunch and then to our favorite store T.J. Maxx. She loved having steak and eggs at the citris Grill and we both loved the bacon at the Over the Counter Cafe. We would also go to coffee shops where we were always way older than the younger kids who usually had piercings and lots of tattoos and strangely colored hair...but we were always accepted. We sat and talked about a lot of things, like politics, the problems of the world and things we wished we would have done when we were younger. She wished she would have tried pot at least once.
There was one place we went where we always had the home made rice pudding...comfort food. Not knowing what else to do when she was ill, I made her a lot of rice pudding. It was more like rice soup but she always ate it and said it was as good as the stuff we got in the coffee shop.
Like me, Enid loved comfort food. She made the best biscuits and gravy. When my dad died, she called me wondering if everything was okay. She sensed something wasn't right. When I told her about my dad, the next morning she was over with scrambled eggs, biscuits and gravy. When my mom died, I called her right away, hoping again for the biscuits and gravy. And the next morning I didn't eat breakfast thinking she would be bringing some over and sure enough she did. She was so kind that way and seemed to know just what I needed to feel better. One winter our power went out for a few days. She came over with chili for us. Every Christmas we got a big basket filled with all kinds of stuff, like the best chocolate truffles, nuts, a bottle of wine, and cheese and crackers and a bunch of other goodies – all in a big basket and wrapped beautifully – she had a talent for this too – maybe because she had worked at the gift shop at St. Mark's hospital for a long time.
We often talked about the good old days. She had a rough life at first – with her mom dying when she was only 6 years old. It was during the depression. She told me how her brother used to get up at 4am and go to work making donuts. He would then come home before they went to school and bring donut holes for the younger kids to eat for breakfast before going to school. They were poor and sometimes put newspapers in their shoes to keep their feet warm and dry in the winter.
When Enid and her family moved to Utah she was happy here . She loved when we would drive around downtown and look at areas that she remembered...like Liberty Park . She told me how she used to take pictures of people at the night club she worked at and one time got to take a picture of Dean Martin. She loved trips that she and her daughter made on the bus downtown from her house to shop at Auebachs where she also once worked. And she loved the mountains and never failed to comment on their beauty.
Enid had a real sense of style – if you looked at her old pictures you can see that she was a beauty. I still viewed her as beautiful. We lamented on how when a woman got older it was hard to know how to dress cause all the catalogs had younger women in them. We decided we would just wear what we wanted. For me, it's usually jeans and a T-shirt, but Enid always looked stylish in matching pants and jackets – often with a scarf around her neck and always with her hair looking perfect. I did give her heck the year she told me she was no longer going to wear shorts. “Who wants to look at my old lady legs?” she said. “You earned them, I replied. “and Everyone will be in the same place as you some day – all the young girls with the short shorts will be old”. She just laughed but never did wear shorts again. I learned that once she made up her mind about something you could not change it – and she would give you a “flashing eye” look which meant you better not even try!
Enid trained to be a hair stylist and had a shop in her basement for many years– so she knew a lot of the gossip in the neighborhood. I guess this is why her hair always looked so nice. She did her own perms and her own coloring.
One year her daughter got her some water paints and she painted me a beautiful winter scene – I made her sign it because I said when she was famous it would be worth a lot of money. She underestimated her talent and told me I should put it in the basement where no one could see it. But I will treasure that painting – it's an original Enid.
So think about this long and hard;
Are there things you’d like to change?
For you never know how much time is left
That can still be rearranged.
If we could just slow down enough
To consider what’s true and real
And always try to understand
The way other people feel.
And be less quick to anger
And show appreciation more
And love the people in our lives
Like we never loved before.
If we treat each other with respect
And more often wear a smile…
Remembering that this special dash
My friend Enid died on September 1. She really didn't want to I don't think. Before she died, she asked me to speak at her funeral. It was an honor to remember my good friend. My comments are below.
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| My friend Enid, holding Desmond a few years ago. I have very few pictures of her - she didn't like getting her picture taken |
A few weeks ago I was visiting my
friend Enid. She had cancer and knew her days were numbered and she
was writing her obituary – the one you probably read. While she
didn't tell me this is what she was doing, I figured it out because
she had a newspaper open to the obit page and was busy with a yellow
legal pad, which she quickly put away when I came into her room.
Yes, she knew she was dying but didn't dwell on it while I was
there...just tried to be positive, asking me about my grandson and
what I had been doing.
Just a few months ago when I looked
out my window I would see her in her yard, caring for her flowers,
planting new ones and talking to people who might walk by. But a
fast growing cancer even then, was numbering her days.
As I read the beautiful obituary that
she wrote, I noted her name “Enid Eva Hart” 1925 – 2012. It
reminded me of a poem I read a long time ago, written by Linda Ellis.
The first part goes like this:
I read of a man who stood to speak
At the funeral of a friend.He referred to the dates on her tombstone
From the beginning…to the end.
He noted that first came the date of her birth
And spoke of the following date with tears,
But he said what mattered most of all
Was the dash between those years.
For that dash represents all the time
That she spent alive on earth
And now only those who love her
Know what that little line is worth.
For it matters not, how much we own,
The cars…the house…the cash.
What matters is how we live and love
And how we spend our dash.
I want to tell you a little bit of what I know about how Enid spent her dash. I was lucky to have gotten to know her and spend some of this time with her. My only regret is that I didn't get to know her sooner. We first met when my son delivered newspapers to her house. Bruce actually knew her before me as he often helped to shovel their driveway...and once went over to prevent Vic, at 90 something, from climbing up on his roof to fix his swamp cooler. When Bruce offered to climb up on the roof, Vic said, “Well you will break too if you fall off”.
I found out Enid had high blood pressure so I went over on Saturdays at first just to check her pressure. Those visits turned into more and the blood pressure often didn't get measured – I would sit with her and Vic, and have a beer and talk about all sorts of things they remembered – how she used to sing with him in a Jazz band. He played the trumpet and years ago, in the summer with the windows open, we could hear him practicing. I sure wish I could have heard Enid sing. They told me stories about the neighborhood and the big field that existed where our house is now and how there used to be a drive in theatre up on 33rd south where the Smith's food king is now. I also learned about some of the infamous people who lived in our neighborhood. We looked at old pictures and it was obvious the Enid and Vic had a good life together...and a lot of fun with Sherry their daughter, Duane, and Robby their grandson.
When Vic died, Enid missed him terribly. We resumed our visits but usually went out for breakfast or lunch and then to our favorite store T.J. Maxx. She loved having steak and eggs at the citris Grill and we both loved the bacon at the Over the Counter Cafe. We would also go to coffee shops where we were always way older than the younger kids who usually had piercings and lots of tattoos and strangely colored hair...but we were always accepted. We sat and talked about a lot of things, like politics, the problems of the world and things we wished we would have done when we were younger. She wished she would have tried pot at least once.
There was one place we went where we always had the home made rice pudding...comfort food. Not knowing what else to do when she was ill, I made her a lot of rice pudding. It was more like rice soup but she always ate it and said it was as good as the stuff we got in the coffee shop.
Like me, Enid loved comfort food. She made the best biscuits and gravy. When my dad died, she called me wondering if everything was okay. She sensed something wasn't right. When I told her about my dad, the next morning she was over with scrambled eggs, biscuits and gravy. When my mom died, I called her right away, hoping again for the biscuits and gravy. And the next morning I didn't eat breakfast thinking she would be bringing some over and sure enough she did. She was so kind that way and seemed to know just what I needed to feel better. One winter our power went out for a few days. She came over with chili for us. Every Christmas we got a big basket filled with all kinds of stuff, like the best chocolate truffles, nuts, a bottle of wine, and cheese and crackers and a bunch of other goodies – all in a big basket and wrapped beautifully – she had a talent for this too – maybe because she had worked at the gift shop at St. Mark's hospital for a long time.
We often talked about the good old days. She had a rough life at first – with her mom dying when she was only 6 years old. It was during the depression. She told me how her brother used to get up at 4am and go to work making donuts. He would then come home before they went to school and bring donut holes for the younger kids to eat for breakfast before going to school. They were poor and sometimes put newspapers in their shoes to keep their feet warm and dry in the winter.
When Enid and her family moved to Utah she was happy here . She loved when we would drive around downtown and look at areas that she remembered...like Liberty Park . She told me how she used to take pictures of people at the night club she worked at and one time got to take a picture of Dean Martin. She loved trips that she and her daughter made on the bus downtown from her house to shop at Auebachs where she also once worked. And she loved the mountains and never failed to comment on their beauty.
Enid had a real sense of style – if you looked at her old pictures you can see that she was a beauty. I still viewed her as beautiful. We lamented on how when a woman got older it was hard to know how to dress cause all the catalogs had younger women in them. We decided we would just wear what we wanted. For me, it's usually jeans and a T-shirt, but Enid always looked stylish in matching pants and jackets – often with a scarf around her neck and always with her hair looking perfect. I did give her heck the year she told me she was no longer going to wear shorts. “Who wants to look at my old lady legs?” she said. “You earned them, I replied. “and Everyone will be in the same place as you some day – all the young girls with the short shorts will be old”. She just laughed but never did wear shorts again. I learned that once she made up her mind about something you could not change it – and she would give you a “flashing eye” look which meant you better not even try!
Enid trained to be a hair stylist and had a shop in her basement for many years– so she knew a lot of the gossip in the neighborhood. I guess this is why her hair always looked so nice. She did her own perms and her own coloring.
One year her daughter got her some water paints and she painted me a beautiful winter scene – I made her sign it because I said when she was famous it would be worth a lot of money. She underestimated her talent and told me I should put it in the basement where no one could see it. But I will treasure that painting – it's an original Enid.
The last time we went out for lunch was in May, a day
before her 86th birthday. I picked her up and she came springing down
the steps of her house, clutching her purse - wearing a black and
white jacket and cropped pants. So we went back home and checked.
We went to Ruth's diner up Emigration Canyon. I remember how much she
enjoyed sitting outside that spring day and how happy she seemed. She
and her husband and Sherry used to spend a lot of time in that canyon
and being up there brought happy memories to her. Neither of us
figured that would be the last time we would get to go out. I was so
glad we decided to go up there -had I known how much she enjoyed it,
I would have suggested it a long time ago.
I am sad about losing my friend even though I know it
is life. She was 86 and lived well. She has been so kind to me and
my family and knowing she is across the street always made me feel
happy. Sometimes she would call me and just say, “If you ever have
one of those days when you are really sad, you can come over every
time. Some days when I called her she would tell me she was having
one of those days. She always would say, “But I have so much to be
thankful for – I shouldn't be crying”. When I retired, she was
so happy but she was sure we would move away. Now it is she who
has left. I am so grateful for knowing her and all she has taught me
both in her living and her dying. She helped me to realize that we
always are young inside if we allow ourselves to be – no matter
what our outsides look like. I hope she is up in Heaven getting to
know her mother and once again singing with Vic.
I am grateful for Sherry, Duane, Robby and Lesa for letting me be there during those last days. As a nurse, I know it is a privilege to share in someone's dying just as it is in their being born. Enid loved you all and she often told me how lucky she was to have you and how grateful she was for your care. You made her dying easier for her. If she ever complained about any of you it was that you were too good to her and if she even mentioned she wanted something you got it for her. you gave her the best gift – the gift of caring for her during her illness. She loved her little dog tinker too, who really helped comfort her as only dogs can do.
I am grateful for Sherry, Duane, Robby and Lesa for letting me be there during those last days. As a nurse, I know it is a privilege to share in someone's dying just as it is in their being born. Enid loved you all and she often told me how lucky she was to have you and how grateful she was for your care. You made her dying easier for her. If she ever complained about any of you it was that you were too good to her and if she even mentioned she wanted something you got it for her. you gave her the best gift – the gift of caring for her during her illness. She loved her little dog tinker too, who really helped comfort her as only dogs can do.
The ending to the poem goes like this:
Are there things you’d like to change?
For you never know how much time is left
That can still be rearranged.
If we could just slow down enough
To consider what’s true and real
And always try to understand
The way other people feel.
And be less quick to anger
And show appreciation more
And love the people in our lives
Like we never loved before.
If we treat each other with respect
And more often wear a smile…
Remembering that this special dash
Might only last a little while.
Godspeed my good friend. You used your special dash in
many good ways that touched a lot of people. I love you and will
miss you.
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