Growing Up Growing Old

A recent entry on Robin's page made me think of friends. Friends that I feel have been called home to soon. Betty - a delightful lady with a wicked sense of humor. If your husband is blind, you need to respect his blindness. Betty respected his blindness but only to certain point. She built the house she lived in for years. An earth contact home dug out by hand and built lovingly with cement blocks. It wasn't until the kids were grown that she added a kitchen and bathroom. What made this home so unique besides being built by hand was she sent it up to where you could move the walls. You never knew where the bedrooms would be or the living room would be when you visited. Betty hated boredom, the same old same old; she lived actively and pursued life with a passion. Her home reflected this. As I said earlier, her husband Paul was blind. He would become very confused when he got home because he was never quite sure where he was when he walked in the front door. Paul was another interesting person. A man of few words but when he spoke you listened. I remember him tearing down a small house. He did this by placing ropes lines in certain places. Being blind was not a handicap. Their daughter Carol, who was born on the same day and time as I, could tell stories vividly. I would close my eyes because she could describe a bird or a leaf in such detail that I could actually see it in my mind. My last memory of Betty was not of sorrow. She had been suffering from lung cancer and whenever the doctor would tell her she only had 6 months to live she would live longer. She was that stubborn. Whenever I would take her to the hospital, she would get so aggravated with me because I drove on the wrong side of the road. She would hit me and say get in the slow lane. When I got the call that Betty would be passing over I hurried to Springfield. I was thinking, "What do I say?" How do you say good-bye? When I walked into her hospital room and saw her laying there with the usual tubes and machines it came to me. I walked up to her, leaned over, gave her a kiss goodbye, and whispered "Betty I promise you I will always drive on the right side of the road.” She laughed. There was no tears just laughter and I left feeling joy for knowing her and not just sadness for losing her.

Later