And yet, another phenomena, Facebook has reunited me with long ago friends from school and my old neighborhood of childhood days. Friends with whom I'd lost connection as our lives diverged and mine away to California from Pennsylvania, but real friends whom I see on trips to PA; lasting friendships where s a gap of over 35 years is merely another thing to catch up on, those friends with whom I talk and visit just like it was only yesterday.
On the other hand, there are those who have just faded out of my life , like some old photograph. My stepsister, Judy Degnan Shondeck , Barney's daughter, someone I enjoyed when we met in adulthood. Judy remained in contact through Mom's illness and a year after her death, and then nothing. I tried to reconnect to her with cards but no response. I recall Judy suffered moodiness, according to Mom, something I recognized as dire depressions; Judy never recovered from the grief of the tragic death of her 19 year old son, Craig, in Mexico in 1987, nor the death of her mother to whom she felt very close and I suspect her divorce left a scar too. Well I know something about grief, but realize life moves on with or without us, reflecting on Mom's mantra, "life is for the living." So last fall while in PA I called Judy's son, David, who remembered me and promised to tell his Mom, but still no response. If you look closely at Judy you can see the pervasive sadness she carries. Lack of contact with Judy, saddens me. On one trip, Judy drove us to Canonsburg to eat at Sardi's where the ice cream is served with a delicious candy coating. Better yet, Canonsburg, the hometown to Perry Como, is an antique haven where I found the set of depression ware plates matching the pieces I had from my Grandmother Rose. That was a humorous escapade where despite loud admonitions from Mom and aunt Jinx to me "Don't you buy any junk" I could not resist buying Amber Rose of Sharon pattern dishes which the proprietor shipped safely to me in CA. In 2004, when Mom died Judy was right there. When we cleaned out Mom's home I gave Judy many items she wanted; one was my very own poodle circle skirt from teen time and the white lace dress might have belonged to my Grandmother, but Judy admired it and said she would have it on a mannequin in her home. I left behind more things for Judy and David including a painting that David remembered as always being on the wall on the couch, the only thing David asked for but decided not to take with him the day they were at the house as he felt they had enough. Too bad because, although I left specific instruction that the items were for Judy and David, they never got them. After I left PA and my greedy ex-half brother took over. I was not the only one he cheated on that estate. Perhaps this upset Judy but the last time we talked in 2005 she'd had forgotten all about it. The Christmas cards stopped and then all contact, so that she is a memory today.
In California I lost and mourned my best friend, Roberta Valla, a true friend I met in 1975 at work, who died unexpectedly and suddenly in 2002, too soon after she'd retired. I could write a chapter in my book about Roberta and maybe I'll get to that someday, but she's not the one that vanished although she is not on this earth. To each other, we were the sisters that neither of us ever had. I spoke her eulogy at her funeral and her husband, Charlie presented me with the crucifix from her coffin at the gravesite. After the funeral Charlie insisted I visit their home in Vacaville where to my amazement he'd laid out on the table all of Roberta's valuable jewelry which he said was for me. They'd never had children and there was "no one else" no relatives and Charlie assured me Roberta wanted me to have all this warning him to give me the entire lot. I think about her every time I wear a piece; one black hills gold necklace in particular is my favorite as she wore it the last time we had lunch. True to Roberta she had these in an old brown cardboard raggedy box amongst rags, where she was certain a burglar would never look if their home was ever broken into. We remained in touch with Charlie and he'd visited us in Newcastle. Then suddenly mysteriously contact stopped; he changed their unlisted phone number. Cards and letters I sent were not returned so I suspect they were delivered and that he still lived there. I wondered if one of the church widow women who had their eye on Charlie, immediately after Roberta's passing had not snagged him; he'd have been in his mid to late 60's and so a catch for some single woman. Still, I find it odd that Charlie would drop all contact and I wonder if he survived or became ill. Odd to hear nothing.
Debbie Erickson was a close friend in CA through commutes to Sacramento, Rose Society and teatimes. Debbie was a "spinster" (if you knew her you'd agree she epitomized that old fashioned term and in fact was something of an anachronism in dress and lifestyle) and lived with her parents on the family farm in Penryn where she enjoyed her horses and mules on her off hours as well as growing beautiful roses. We did a lot together, Auburn season symphony tickets, tea times, antiquing, or thrifting. It was great to have Debbie in for tea where I could make dainty sandwiches and my favorite butternut squash soup, which Jerry disdained but Debbie and I enjoyed. Debbie especially was fond of Jerry who was the only person she trusted for maintenance on her big chevy truck that was an essential to haul the horse trailer. We began to lose touch when she went to the train to commute and I remained with the van and then went to the bus. She did know we were moving to MN and promised to take the train to visit sometime. I last heard from her Christmas, 2005 but then all contact stopped, vanished gone. I learned when I was in CA in 2008 that her mother had died, that might have affected her badly as they were very close. She was several years younger than me and would not have yet retired. The phone number I had has changed, none listed and not a clue as to what happened. She had two brothers living in CA, one a highway patrol officer and the other worked for a state tax agency. I don't think I even have a photo of Debbie.
Sharon Mikus in our motor home in 2008 |
- People come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. When you figure out which it is, you know exactly what to do.
- When someone is in your life for a REASON, it is usually to meet a need you have expressed outwardly or inwardly. They have come to assist you through a difficulty, to provide you with guidance and support, to aid you physically, emotionally, or spiritually. They may seem like a godsend, and they are. They are there for the reason you need them to be. Then, without any wrong doing on your part or at an inconvenient time, this person will say or do something to bring the relationship to an end. Sometimes they die. Sometimes they walk away. Sometimes they act up or out and force you to take a stand. What we must realize is that our need has been met, our desire fulfilled; their work is done. The prayer you sent up has been answered and it is now time to move on.
- When people come into your life for a SEASON, it is because your turn has come to share, grow, or learn. They may bring you an experience of peace or make you laugh. They may teach you something you have never done. They usually give you an unbelievable amount of joy. Believe it! It is real! But, only for a season.
- LIFETIME relationships teach you lifetime lessons; those things you must build upon in order to have a solid emotional foundation. Your job is to accept the lesson, love the person/people (anyway); and put what you have learned to use in all other relationships and areas of your life. It is said that love is blind but friendship is clairvoyant.
- It was never easy, and it didn’t get easier as time went by. There may have been tears, followed by sadness, and sometimes just a deep feeling of loneliness. You keep in contact for awhile and then one day one of you just stops writing. There was no fight, no reason, you both just stopped. I learned that friends come and go, and your life goes on