Peaceful, Grateful

I started worrying Saturday.  It was my Cousin Rose's birthday and I'd via Facebook I sent her a message, a GIF of her favorite, Han Solo. I'd also sent her a gift, which the USPS confirmed had arrived in plenty of time for her big day. All I heard back was crickets.

This is not like Rosie. She would never not acknowledge a gift. Never. The woman is hardwired to mind her manners. 

So I went to text her. Her phone told my phone it was "not available."

This was Rosie's 80th birthday. A big deal. I can't imagine her not checking social media or her phone to get and enjoy birthday wishes!

By Sunday I was freaking out. I was going to reach out to her cousin, Marlene.* Rosie had knee surgery in mid-January and Marlene has been staying with her. Not just because Marlene is a good cousin. She lives in Michigan and January is a good time to help Rosie recuperate in Tampa.

But then I realized something: I thought Rosie was dead and I didn't want it confirmed. As long as no one told me she was dead, it wasn't real.

What a wimpy, stupid way to feel! Yet it was how I felt. 

On Monday I mailed Rosie a postcard, asking her to let me know how she is. My reasoning was if she got it, she would reach out. And well, if she didn't get it, it would remind Marlene or whoever was handling things that they should give me the news.

I checked my phone over and over. No word from Tampa. This just emphasized my ambivalence: I wanted to hear, and I didn't want to hear.

Today – Wednesday – when I went down to get the mail I discovered something glorious: Rosie's handwriting on an envelope!

She lost her phone shortly after our last Facebook exchange back on February 1. She's sure she left it in the courtesy van that took her to her physical therapy appointment, but the van company couldn't find it.

She's got a new phone, but she admits she needs her niece and grand-nephew to come over and set it up for her. Neither she nor Marlene can figure it out. (At least Marlene's phone is charged and working fine, so they're connected to the outside world.)

Rosie also thanked me for her birthday present – because of course she did – and reiterated how much she likes and uses the blanket I sent her right after the had her knee done a few weeks ago. 

Rosie exasperates me. The 12 year age difference is always there in her mind, making me the junior partner in our relationship. When I was 15 and she was 27, I welcomed her input on my clothes and hair and attitudes and aspirations. Now that we're both AARP members, it just feels judgey and nitpicky.

But she loves me. The older I get, the more I value that. Because I'm blessed with the ability to make friends easily, I think I somehow always assumed people would be like Pop Tarts in a toaster – a new one will pop up. But now I know that's not true.

There is no one to replace John, who died after 40+ years of friendship. Or Henry, who died after loving me for more than 30 years. Or my oldest friend, who because of her physical/emotional challenges can no longer offer me comfort or companionship. 

There are new people in my life – Elaine and Joanna, Nancy and Will. But it's not the same. None of them went with me to Wrigley Field three days in a row to watch the Cubs play the World Champion Cincinnati Reds. Rosie did that in 1976. None of them taught me how to braid hair, like Rosie did in the late 1960s. None of them held me as a baby.

There's no replacing Rosie. 

Knowing she's out there and OK has left me feeling peaceful and oh, so grateful.

 

 

*Marlene and I are not related, and I'm not sure I've ever met her. But certainly she knows about me, just as I do her. 

 

Photo by Aravind Balabhaskar on Unsplash