Some time ago (it seems like a life time) I was given a collection of poems and short stories entitled “When I am an Old Woman I Shall Wear Purple”.  It was close to my 50th birthday, when my dear friend Janine presented it to me.   I read it and  tears came to my eyes thinking of my Mother and how as time went by the signs of age were taking their toll on her.

October 1st it was time to say goodbye to my sweet friend Janine.  After a battle with cancer, as is so often the case, she lost.  We met 20 years ago when we were both selling real estate and worked in the same office on Centre St. in Portage.  We hit it off right away because we made each other laugh over silly things (practically everything that came out of our mouths).  We “got” each other.  To say we were friends is a vast understatement.  We were cheerleaders, confidants, comedians for one another.  We laughed and cried, shopped, decorated, drank vodka tonics.  If her husband Andy was home she would tell him to make me one of his famous Bloody Marys.  I shared EVERYTHING with her and she NEVER  judged, she understood.  On one of our shopping trips we were in Steketee’s  and saw a contemporary rooster she loved, I went back and bought it for her.  It moved from house to house with her, (we were a lot alike in that respect), until she decided I should have it,  not too long ago.  It sits quietly on my kitchen cupboard and brings back memories of our time together.

I still have that book and I took it out to leaf through one more time.  When I was 50 it was fun reading through and imagining  what we would be like when we were old.  It’s the optimist in all of us.    Janine I will miss you every day.  We never got the chance to grow old together.  You are my forever friend..

THE ORPHAN

                                                                            There’s no umbrella now                                                                                                                                 to separate you                                                                                                                                                    from eternity.

                                                                           Meanwhile an army                                                                                                                                           marches behind you                                                                                                                                           in the rain.

                                                                           Your friends are dead                                                                                                                                         or dying.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 You’re a survivor                                                                                                                                                 with all the loneliness                                                                                                                                       of  survivorship.*

*Excerpt from “When I am an Old Woman I shall Wear Purple”