Tuesday, May 03, 2005

Geri

Geri passed away last night.

I knew her through the PTSA (Parent Teacher Student Association) at the school our daughters attend. She was some years older than I, with blue eyes and gray hair cut in what I suppose could be called a Pageboy style. She was slender and strong, played tennis with a number of friends, and owned her own business -- a line of athletic clothing. She possessed a single-minded sense of purpose and a unique ability to inspire people to give their best; when she took on a project, she'd build a team to get it done.

One of the most amazing experiences of my life came a little more than a year ago after Geri's spine collapsed, crushed by cancer. She had come home, and brought her hospice nurse with her. It was important, she said, for her daughter to have as normal a life as possible, and spending most evenings in the hospital was not how she wanted her daughter to spend her teens. For herself, and for all of us, Geri steadfastly maintained that she would live on.

The weekend of her return home, Geri asked her friends and family to join her in a healing circle. More than 200 people attended, some of whom came from as far away as South Africa to be with her. The circle of Geri's friends wound around her spacious living room, kitchen and dining room. It extended into her back yard.

Having been told to expect the end in a short few weeks, Geri lived more than a year.

For a time, those of us who lived closest to them helped as we could, bringing dinners or books or flowers or simply visiting. Amidst all that pain, Geri greeted us cheerfully and without a word of complaint, except to say that she wished she could spend more time with us.

The feeling, Geri, was most definitely mutual.

I regret that I did not make more time to spend with her, but I did not want to impose upon her or her family, nor tax her reserves of strength. I did not want to take away from the time she had with those dearest to her. I thought of her often, of course, and I prayed that she'd have strength and peace, things she had in abundance already.

1 comment:

Sherri said...

I am truly sorry for the loss of your friend. I guess we are of like minds today.