Saying Goodbye When we built our dream house in Prescott, Arizona, we thought we would live there forever. We had extra wide doors for wheelchairs and high toilets for comfort. But after twelve years or so we changed our minds and decided we should move close to one of our kids when we turned eighty. That was still a few years off, but finally we were faced with the fact that we had to sell our house and find a retirement community near our son in North Carolina. It was the logical choice since our daughters live in California and Canada and neither place was affordable or even possible. So we moved, just before Mike turned eighty. We are both still healthy and able to enjoy many things in life. Many people do not make such a timely choice, but move here when their health is failing in one way or another and they are in their late eighties and nineties. Many people, therefore, use walkers or canes or are in a wheelchair. Discussions around the dinner table are frequently health related and not very interesting. But we made friends by now and even get to know newcomers slowly but surely.
In a retirement place like this, however, with so many very old people, you can never be sure you will see everyone the next day. Some people that disappeared suddenly are in the hospital, or in rehab, some have moved to Assisted Living or Memory Care, and some have died after they have been absent for a while. One of our friends, I will call him Russ, had been a heart patient for many years, often in and out of hospitals before he and his wife moved here. Russ and his wife often played pool or cards after dinner. A few days ago we heard that Russ had been taken to the hospital, from there to Hospice, where he had asked to have his pacemaker removed. He died peacefully after having said goodbye to his wife and relatives who came to visit one last time. For us, other than the fact that we will not see him again, it means that we were not able to say goodbye. The last time we saw him walk away with his walker was the last time ever. It means that every day it can happen to any other friend we see daily: a sobering thought. It makes me want to do something for those we “lost” but who are still alive. It reminds me of what my Mom used to say: Do it Now! ‘Cause all the years will come and go but we may never pass this way again.
Fall is here!
This post was published before I had time to finish! On Monday, during my morning walk in the greenway at Wimbledon, I discovered these beautiful mushroom creations and was amazed at the similarities between the second and the third mushrooms and underwater coral as I have admired snorkeling in the warm waters of the South Pacific.
When I looked it up (Google is my friend) I found a picture (left) of an anemone, which is not a coral, but also found that the mushroom in my second picture above is called a coral mushroom. And the picture on the right below is of a table coral, by its spread preventing light to get to coral underneath.
How I loved to observe the underwater life in Hawai’i, where we used to live, and in other part of the South Pacific, where we traveled! I am very privileged. I realize that and am very thankful.
On Tuesday I was busy planning for and giving my Keynote Presentation. It went very well and I totally ran out of time to finish my blog post, which was scheduled for 6 a.m. this morning! Next week I will tell you more about that an other things that are happening.
It’s a Wonderful Life!
Until next time!
Ronny