”You would like her,” they said. Neighbors had encouraged me to stop in and visit her for some time. Apparently she had great stories to share. But I never quite got around to it. And this week she died.
Annie lived just down the road from the cottage here in Ireland. A modest trailer home she shared with her dog and cat. Two days ago we noticed the cars. And then the hearse. And we knew.
I wasn’t sure about going to the funeral for a woman I had never met. But here if you live on the same road, if you are a neighbor, you go. And so I did. There was no church service because although she was a very spiritual woman she had no love of organized religion. The service was around her grave. As we gathered, the skies let loose and we were soon drenched. Perhaps a blessing from Annie.
As people spoke and placed flowers, especially single yellow roses, over her casket I got a sense of the woman. When people visited her she made them feel like they were the only people in the world that mattered. She kept both stories and confidences. She loved music and dancing, often the first on the dance floor. She saw death as intrinsically woven with life and in the end she was ready to go. Excited even. Ready for the next adventure.
”I’m just a soul who’s intentions are good.” “I get by with a little help from my friends.” As those lyrics were played I had a deeper sense of this woman.
And yes. I would have liked her.
Of course I had no anticipation of crying. I had never met Annie. But as we drove home past her tiny house her dog was sitting on the front porch waiting for her. Looking so lost and forlorn. It broke my heart. And the tears flowed.
Annie, you will be missed.
Judith – email@example.com