She Showed Me How

She was 24 years older than me. We became friends about the time she was the age I am now. She was looking to establish a fund in the name of her recently deceased husband, and I had visited her at her home with suggestions and possibilities. We ended up talking about many other things including that we shared the same birthday month (10 days apart) as well as a Swiss heritage. Three months later I received a call from her wondering if I might like to be her friend.

She said she had waited to call, uncertain whether I would want to be friends with someone her age. I told her I would be delighted to be her friend, and our journey together began. As she put it, we’d hit it off right from the first time we met. Our age difference disappeared as our friendship grew. We were of the same mind on most everything and enjoyed our hours together, laughing, talking about science, politics, history. She never stopped listening to the news and watching educational videos. For years we had a breakfast date on the first Saturday of the month. I’d swing by in my little Mercedes hardtop convertible and pick her up for a where shall we go this time? adventure. We explored eateries in the towns nearby and took our time riding home on backroads. Through the years, though I didn’t know it at the time, she showed me how to age gracefully while staying interested and involved in life.

After she suffered a fall that fractured her left femur, she was told she would probably spend the rest of her life in a wheelchair. Spunk and an indomitable spirit along with her faithful adherence to an exercise program gave her the ability to use a walker instead. However, our carefree Saturday breakfasts came to an end; my visits became evenings after work where we added card games and dominoes to our socializing repertoire. Determined for us to still enjoy eating out, she asked if I thought I could fit her walker into the trunk of my little car. Accordingly, we shared numerous evenings of dining pleasure, laughing, and taking selfies.

She died in her 98th year when I was in my 74th year. She called me to her a month prior to her demise, telling me she wanted to say goodbye in person. “I don’t have much time left,” she told me. While there her caretaker assured me that she was not going to die, but she told me she had had a dream that convinced her otherwise. She’d called her family members to come together for a breakfast at her home so she could say goodbye to them. They all came and enjoyed a lovely family time. She was in great form so most were convinced that, though she was failing, she would be alright.

A week before she died, she called me to her again, repeating “I don’t have much time left.” We spent a precious evening together. I bent down close to her to read out loud a card I brought (she could no longer see well). In it I told her how much I would miss her, how much our friendship had meant to me all those years –validating her own knowledge that her time on earth was short. Again, her caretaker assured me it was not so. But I knew she knew, and we were able to say goodbye with tender love and kisses.

When her daughter called to tell me that she was gone, I was not surprised. Already comforted by my beloved friend, I felt honored to have spent so many years together. She had been confined to a wheelchair the final weeks of her life. Ever a free spirit, she passed quickly with a lovely smile on her face. She wanted to say goodbye to those she loved before she left, and she did. And so, she showed me not just how to age gracefully, but how to leave this world.