REMEMBERING A DEAR FRIEND

Two years ago, my dearest friend in all the world passed away. I have missed her deeply for these past two years. I thought that I would tell a bit about her here on my blog since today is the day that she was born. This is a small painting that she gave to me many years ago. She used to love to paint and when she lived in a mobile home park she would teach others what she knew at the club house. I own a few of these paintings, primitive as they are, but love them to pieces because they were made by her, with her hands.Lela was a generous person all of her life and she lived well into her eighties. Her health was bad a few times throughout her life. She had asthma that plagued her and landed her in the hospital many times throughout her long life. She survived breast cancer. She survived lymphoma too. She had a dedication for life that was beyond what most of us would ever expect to be put through but she was determined. She was strong until the end.

I was thinking the other day that sometimes after we lose someone, it is hard to pull their face up in our memory. I need a photo sometimes to remind me exactly how she looked. I think that faces start to fade after awhile. But, I always remember her kindness and her friendship toward me. I can never remember arguing with her about anything, I never remember her saying a harsh word about me ever, and I can honestly say that we were the kind of friends that never forgot about each other. We talked on the phone a minimum of once a week. Sometimes when she couldn't reach her daughter on her cell phone she would call me and we would talk. My only regret is that I didn't make the effort to drive the three-hours to the Bay Area to visit her more. Toward the end of her life B and I would make the trip down to visit her in the care facility she was in. Being the host that she always was, she would offer to serve us something to eat or drink as though she were at home in her own surroundings. I would stop at Trader Joe's and try and pick out things for her that she could enjoy that didn't require refrigeration. Sharing a room in a care facility is not as dignified as most people would care to admit. But, she never apologized for her small living quarters, only the fact that she didn't have enough chairs for us to sit on or that she didn't have the ability to use her beloved kitchen.

Lela loved to cook. She was in her element in her kitchen and she rivaled anyone in this arena. One of her pass times if she couldn't sleep was sitting up looking at cook books. I have a few that she personally signed for me. They are my treasures. And...I also have a few of her recipes still too. I have scanned her recipe for Kosher Dill Pickles, written in her own handwriting, for you to see. Notice the attention to details that she went to in telling me that I had to use "Heinz" vinegar and that the water had to be "distilled". Even the salt had to be "canning" salt. On the back side she gives me permission to "use garlic and peppers to [your]taste" and she gives me a health warning, cautioning me not to "use if they are soft or lose color" and that I "make sure [you] scrub cukes and remove any bad spots."

I loved this woman!! She was always there for me. She never ignored me and always gave me good advice in my life. I didn't always take it but later on I wished I would have! She had a keen sense of humor and she could tell me something I didn't want to hear but it didn't make me like her any less. We shared a love of painting and flowers. She always picked up things for me that had pansies on them because she knew how much that flower meant to me. I have the most beautiful Fitz and Floyd pansy teapot that she gave me once. I was instructed "to never get rid of the box" and I haven't! We both understood chiaroscuro which is important when you are an artist. Without it, there is no dimension, no realism to representational art.

Funny how even though she is no longer here physically she is "still" here. Her handwriting proves that she once walked this earth. This summer, when I make her Kosher Dill Pickles I will once again be transported to her kitchen. Good luck wishes from Lela. Good luck from her to me. She will always be here with me. No one can ever take that away from me.
1 lug fresh picked cucumbers

1 gallon white vinegar (Heinz!)

2 gallons water (distilled)

4 cups salt (canning)

Fresh Dill, garlic, and red dried peppers

Pack in hot sterile jars. Cure for 3 months in cool place.

JUST BECAUSE

Just because today seems to be such a sad day for so many of my blog friends, I feel that it is necessary for me to write this evening. Nina, over at Ornamental is missing the home of her childhood and the eventual loss of her parents. My blog friend, Melanie "Heart" at Secret notebooks, Wild Pages is missing her Mom and her eventual loss.

It seems to me, more and more, that a common thread seems to run through these places we frequent called Blogs. These people become our friends, our kindred spirits. We love with them, we celebrate with them, we take them into our homes and into our hearts.

Tonight, I too, am feeling the sadness that many of you are feeling, only in my own way. Two years ago my very dearest friend since I was 13 years old, passed away. She was the mother of my friend and she was just as close to me in many ways (and sometimes more ways) than my own friend. We had a common bond; an understanding.

She was a tough person, surviving cancer for many years and hardly ever complaining about it either. She lived into her 80's, a very long life but it was a struggle. Her husband died when I was in my early 20's and she lived all those years as an independent woman. She was self-assured and knew what she liked and didn't like about things and people. And, she was usually "right on" about her feelings about someone. She had a way of zoning in on the very heart of a person and could read them well. I trusted her instincts about people. I trusted her.

Lela was a wonderful cook, often sitting up into the wee hours of the night reading cookbooks if she was having difficulty sleeping. She was always trying new recipes and sometimes would surprise me by sending me a copy of one of her latest "finds" in the mail. She knew that I loved mail and would always send me things. Sometimes they were filled with a surprise, sometimes I knew what was in the envelope. But, all the same, I knew it was from Lela and I was going to enjoy it.

Lela also loved to laugh. Sometimes, after she would call me up about something that was bothering her, we would end up talking about old times and we would get to giggling so hard. It didn't take much to rustle up the old memories and get us laughing. I would listen to her and try to offer her comfort but really what helped the most was the giggles. Have you ever laughed so hard you peed your pants? I can't tell you how many times that happened to us. And not always in a place where it didn't matter, let me tell you!!

I know it is a part of life (and eventually death since basically the moment we are born we are headed for dying) but you can't help but miss someone so much once they leave this place we call earth. I can feel that she is with me whenever I need her but there is nothing like actually being able to dial the phone and hear her voice. I talked to Lela at lease once a week (and sometimes more) for years. I lived over 3 hours away and couldn't always get away to visit with her in person, but we spoke on the phone all the time. She would have something bothering her and she needed to talk. I was always there for her and tried to work it out as best as I could on the phone. One time she was mad because her daughter wouldn't answer the phone over the weekend so I called her and relayed the message. It wasn't anything to really get worked up about: she just needed some bananas from the store! But, her daughter wasn't there, she had tried another friend to no avail, and then she called me. I guess she did without those bananas that weekend. We got a big laugh about it in future phone calls. Funny how something that seems so critical at the moment can dissipate after talking to a good friend. I wish she were here more times than not when I need someone to talk to. She understood me. I understood her. It was just that simple.

I told Nina at "Ornamental" that for me, it wasn't the many houses that Lela had that I miss so much now that she is gone. Sure, she had some great houses but what made them great houses was the fact that they had "her" in them. Her furniture could change, her address could change, but we were always comfortable no matter where Lela lived. I wish that there were some magical formula that we were privy to that would "put her in a pumpkin shell and keep her, very well". Peter knew the secret. Why didn't he pass it along to us?

Life is such a mysterious thing. I think writing a blog enhances that mystery, at least for me. I "connect" with people I have never met. I see photos of things that touch them deeply: their art, their families, their animals; the streets and flowers and trees that surround their homes. Yet, I do not know these people personally. I really don't think that matters. We are kindred spirits, on the same quest (or somewhat similar) otherwise we wouldn't be "connecting" to what they are writing about on their blogs.

Is it sad to lose someone? YES! It is very sad. What keeps me going and striving for as much life as I can squeeze out of this sad body is the fact that there are people out there who remind me that just by "connecting" via their blogs I can laugh again. I can cry along with you, too. And, you are there for me in a supportive way. I can feel it. I hear from some of you daily. Some: not so often but I know that you care because you tell me so.

This mystery of life is a strange one. I am happy that I am on the journey that I am though, at this point in my life. There are very few people that understand me the way that Lela did. Very few people that I can laugh with or cry with at the drop of a hat. I feel lucky to have found those of you that I have. I am happy you have invited me into your homes and your lives even though it is a "virtual" visit. That still counts, doesn't it? This virtual visit?? I sure hope so because I need to know that it does. I have come to count on you, as weird as that sounds. You are not too busy to sit down at your desk and write about your problems, your celebrations, your loves and losses. And, I am not too busy to not "answer your phone call".

Lela: I hope that you are listening. I hope that you can hear me thinking about you and writing about you. I miss you very, very much. I think of you always and constantly ask myself: "what would Lela say/do about this?" You made a huge impact on my life and still do. You taught me that it didn't matter what I had, as far as material "things". What mattered most to you were friends and being comfortable with what you chose to do. You were generous to a fault. You once told me all I needed was one GOOD friend. Well, I had that in you, that's for sure! Thank you for finding value in me, too. I was a teenage with no self-esteem and still struggle with that. But, you made me forget that. You praised me for what was good about me. You made me feel important. You made me feel loved and comfortable and always safe. Thank you for being you.

(Please read the next last post where I posted a photo of Lela with her husband Neil when they were very young and in love. This photo sits in my bedroom and is the last thing I see before I fall asleep at night.)