Gone, Not Forgotten

by Beth Alexander Walsh

Memorial Day is approaching and I have been mentally adding to my “to do” list of chores to be accomplished by the holiday. The flag must be put into its holster on the deck along with the summer awning and deck furniture heralding in warm weather and outdoor living. Memorial Day is also the deadline for gardens to be planted and mulched and hoses re-attached to water them. My husband’s cache of grills and complimentary equipment return to their allotted space. The neighborhood springs to life with birdsong and lawnmowers and occasionally, in the distance, the motor of a boat trolling the coastline.

In the midst of barbecues kicking off the summer, I do take time to remember those friends and family that are no longer with me. The list unfortunately grows longer as I age, reminding me how fleeting time is.

I also take the time to remember the clients I have served that have passed away. I deliver meals to the elderly and look forward to seeing my clients every day. They have great names like Evelyn, Beverly and Harriet and my own mother’s name Alice. I think of my mother often during my deliveries. She passed away in April 2002 and would now be eighty-nine.  Lavishing attention on the people I serve make me feel I am honoring her.

I have had my favorites over the years; The woman whose cheerful nature was infectious. The gentleman who had grandchildren the same age as my children and would go to all the plays and concerts and took particular interest in my son. There was the woman whose favorite day was hot dog day for whom I would occasionally trouble shoot a computer glitch so she could play Words with Friends on Facebook. Every time I serve hot dogs, I think of her. Most recently, I lost a woman that I have seen every day for almost 5 years. She was an avid reader like myself and we had great conversations about our favorite books.

I have fixed TV remotes and opened jars and orange juice cartons. I have received cards, and dollar store trinkets as well as an assortment of knitted items. They rave about my smile or the color of my shirt and show concern for my warmth when I am not wearing a coat. They make me feel young especially on the days I am feeling my age. Most often when I deliver their meals, the conversation is about the weather, but there have been many other conversations about current events, politics and occasional apartment gossip that I will always cherish.

There are also those clients with not so sunny a disposition. They are the neediest due to illness, frailty, lack of family or financial constraints. There has been the occasional call to 911 when I have discovered someone on the floor after a fall and am grateful that I could be there to help. For some, I am the only person they will see or talk to that day. They are the reason I do what I do.

Someone once asked me if it was depressing when one of my clients passed away. Initially yes, I am sad at their passing but happy for the time we have shared and that their suffering is now over. I think it a privilege to be part of their sunset years.

On the holiday weekend I will remember all those departed while still sitting on my deck in the cool May breeze with a cocktail in my hand and a plate of whatever my grill master husband has cooked for me. We will talk of the summer to come and our plans with family and friends with joy and gratitude for all we have. Living well today is the perfect way to honor those that are gone.