In memoriam...

Hello again

It's been a whirlwind few weeks, with so many things happening my soul has trouble keeping up. Lots and lots of work of all kinds as well as a serious case of TV addiction -- I had digital TV installed quite recently and am catching up, so to speak, on hours of English-language TV -- I've been really rather maxed out.

But there are two events that stand out just now and I want to make a point of marking them here.
On April 30, Wilma, my ex-mother-in-law, died. I heard of it about two weeks later, when her eldest son had managed to deal with the most urgent matters and sent me an e-mail. I really appreciate Jim's remembering me.
Despite a fraught end to my marriage I never stopped liking Wilma. I appreciated her feisty nature, her unputdownability in the face of old-age decrepitude, and I stayed in touch with her despite the long distance and some difficulties in communicating, first by letter, then, when her tremors got worse, in the occasional phone conversation. Talking on the phone was quite difficult because of her speech impediment, acquired when she had a stroke about fifteen years ago. But we managed. After quite a few strained conversations in which I would listen politely while feeling I was only grasping ten per cent of what Wilma tried to tell me, I told her I had trouble understanding her. I think we both felt relieved after that. So, from then on out, each time I called her, I would repeat back to her every so often what I thought she had told me. This gave her a chance of correcting my impression, and I learnt to interpret her speech a lot more accurately. We shared a few tears and many a good chuckle over the phone since my last visit with her in a home outside Portland, Oregon, in September/October 2003, when we celebrated her 90th birthday. I understand that she enjoyed our conversations, as well as my occasional letters and cards.
Wilma loved lilacs. Every spring I think of her when they come out, spreading their wonderful, delicious perfume all over the neighbourhood. And I will think of her for as long as I live, at least every time the lilacs come out. I will also think of her every time I hear of Las Vegas, or see a fruit machine -- because it was in Las Vegas, where she lived for about twenty years after her husband's retirement, until about a year before he died, my ex-father-in-law, up in Portland.
I will also think of her, and of her family -- my ex-brother-in-law and his wife, and my ex-sister-in-law and her ailing husband -- whenever I see pansies and tulips, or hear of Portland, or of volcanic rocks, petrified wood, the Wild West, the heartland of Washington State, the Pacific North-West. I feel privileged to have been a part of their family and appreciate the love and support they have shown me.
Thank you, Pat and Dick, Jim and Renate, for staying in touch all these years, and for including me in Wilma's memory.
Sadly, on June 1st this year, someone else I knew through my ex-husband died. I'm thinking of his good old pal, Walker. I met Walker during our first visit to the U.S. as a married couple. Walker came to meet us from Maine shortly after we arrived in Boston, Mass. I love the memory of the drive up the East Coast, along the shore and through small Massachusetts and Maine villages.
I love the memory of the lobsters we ate both in restaurants and on Walker's front porch -- fantastic culinary feasts that I remember fondly whenever I look at the little lobster magnet on my office wall -- a present from Walker.
As a signed-up member of the NRA, Walker was not exactly my kind of guy. In fact, he seemed a bit mad, believing in conspiracy theories. He could be quite argumentative, too. When I met him, he had a pony tail (like my ex-husband) and rode a huge Harley (like my ex would have loved to). In fact, they looked like brothers, those two, and got on like a house on fire, but they also drank as though they had to put out the biggest fire on the Eastern seaboard. Ah well, despite all this, Walker and I got on well enough. I will never forget that he offered to give me sanctuary at a time when I needed a friend.
He was fun, and generous, and warm-hearted and he loved his flowers. I've never seen a garden quite so full of day-lilies as his, which is why I'm inserting here a couple of photographs of day-lilies. Ever since I met Walker, think of him when I see day-lilies and I will continue to do so for as long as I can think.

I'm sad that Wilma and Walker have gone, but I feel my life has been enriched by knowing them.