Thursday, March 3, 2011


I saw the family who moved in across the street.  It was spring and I noticed they had a young child.  We were on our track of life; they were on theirs.  A month turned into two and I was off for the summer and home every day with Jack (9) and Mike (almost 2), instead of teaching.  I still hadn’t met my neighbors across the street.  One weekday morning, I decided to make fresh blueberry muffins and take them over to introduce myself. 

I have always been a morning person and loved getting up with Rick to send him off to work.  Jack and Michael were usually "crack of dawn" type of kids so we were already up and the boys were playing in the den.  I baked the muffins and let them cool and then walked across the street; Jack stayed with Michael. It must have been around 11:00 a.m. when I rang the bell.   There was no answer so I left the muffins near the door and ran back across the street. Later, I had Jack bring a note to attach to the muffins.

Much later in the day, Teresa came across the street with her son, Aaron and met us. I apologized for disturbing them.  They came in and Michael and Aaron played for the first time.  Teresa thanked me for the muffins and we sat and had a long chat before our husbands came home. That was 13 years ago and the boys are still buddies and Teresa and I are still friends.

We share many interests.  Teresa loves books and is an editor.  She is a gifted, crafty woman; sewing, gardening, singing, guitar, the beach, shells, yard sales are a few of her favorite things.  Where I might know a little about a lot,Teresa is an expert at most everything she tries her hand at.  She is an impressive soul and kindred spirit.

Teresa was there when Rick died and tried to administer CPR.  What a nightmare for anyone!  How could I possibly begin to thank her for coming across the street and answering the call of friendship? I still thank her and she always tells me that it was an honor. I am so grateful that she was there; I think we both feel that we were bonded even more closely on that day.

I didn’t know anyone who had been widowed at forty.  It was difficult to know what I was feeling was normal.  People that knew me had no idea what to say to me except for Teresa.  My friend, Teresa would listen and just let me talk. She was so dear to me, a listener, a gem.  Teresa and I always got together over tea (our favorite, she’s a connoisseur) and just let me talk.  The poor woman spent hours and hours and days and days listening to me. When she did ask me questions, it was in the gentlest, non-intrusive way.  There is very little that can rock her boat.  She is a strong woman of God and lovely person.

For years after Rick died, Teresa would bring me the first rose bloom in her yard. She is an exquisite gardener and this was a treasured offering.  The first rose, continues to bring memories of Rick each year to Teresa.  Even if distance keeps her from delivering it to me, I know that the thought of Rick is there.  She is and always will be a true friend.

1 comment:

  1. Thank you for your kind words. It really was an honor to be there for you. There was so much I couldn't do to help; I couldn't save you from this pain. After feeling so useless for weeks, I am so grateful I was actually awake and dressed--on a Saturday morning, you know that was a miracle!--when Jack knocked on my door. In my heart and mind, the difficult aspects of being there when Rick died are surpassed by my gratitude that I could "be there" for you in some way.

    It was a heart-breaking day. I remember it often. I remember Michael and me working on a puzzle in the other room while the medics worked on Rick. So surreal. I remember Jack taking out a photo album and looking through photos of his dad. So touching.

    And yes, I still think of you and of Rick when my earliest-blooming rose bush offers up its first treasure of the year. Every year.