Friday, April 01, 2011

finding the best in us


Even when you know sad news is coming, it still hits hard when it arrives.


I met my neighbor Adrienne and her husband, Ken, through our dogs.  And not even in our neighborhood.


We would regularly see each other at the dog park several miles south of our houses.  I could not call Jiggs and Foster buddies.  They simply had different interests at the dog park.  But they always acknowledged one another.


I was later surprised Adrienne and Ken lived a half block from me across the main street in our neighborhood.  We would often run across each other in the neighborhood while walking our dogs in the evening.


I also saw Adrienne several times in the State Capitol when she worked with the legislature.  It always seemed a bit odd to see my neighbor handling the technical side of a hearing while I was testifying.


While I was in Salem during my return-to-work stay, I saw her and Ken heading to our Saturday Market.  We caught up on a few things -- including the death of our dogs. 


She then informed me she had been diagnosed with a very aggressive form of cancer.  And jokingly commented she was not certain she wanted people praying for her.  Every time they did, the medical diagnosis was worse.


That was Adrienne.  Always turning bad news to good with a wry wit.


Some of you may recall her comments on this blog.  She was constantly reminding me that life was to be lived, not to be twiddled away.


And that is how she lived hers.  She and Ken spent a good deal of time in Hawaii -- a place they both loved.  They were there when I was in Oregon in early March.  And I was sorry to have missed her.


On Thursday evening, I received an email that Adrienne had died on Sunday.  In his email, Ken added some poignant notes.

About half way through that 4-week plan [in Hawaii], she began to feel that she was going downhill faster, and insisted that we come home before she became too sick to fly.  I resisted that for a while, knowing that she really wanted to be in the warmth of the Islands, both physically and emotionally.  She prevailed, of course, and we came back to Salem 9 days early.  After we made the flight changes, we had our tsunami adventure, but we were safe, as the condo was 120 feet above the water.


We flew back to Salem late on March 16, stayed at an airport hotel, and returned home on the 17th.  She started hospice the next day.  While her decline kept progressing, we all thought we had another week or two to finish many of the plans we were making.  She and I had planned on Sunday to write lists of the music she was selecting for her service, items that she wanted to give to certain people, and gifts she wanted for the charities we support.  Now, I will have to make those lists without her direct guidance.

I will miss Adrienne -- a lot.  She always added a bit of spice to my life each time I saw her.


And it is true that by knowing her my life has been changed for the better.


What more can we ask of our friends?

18 comments:

John said...

So sorry my friend. These kinds of circumstances are never easy and still more difficult to understand - WHY? Our condolences to Ken and the family.

Steve Cotton said...

Thanks, John. This is one weekend I wish I could be in Oregon.

Glorv1 said...

I'm so sorry Steve. My condolences to your friend Ken. ::hugs::

Mexican Trailrunner said...

Oh Steve, what a nice tribute to your friend. She would have been so touched. I'm sorry for your loss.

Kk95448 said...

Having any friend die is saddening, only memories will remain to cherish the good times. Sorry for your loss.

Nita said...

It's hard to lose friends. I feel your post was part eulogy, which I'm sure she would have liked.

Mcotton said...

I am so sorry for the loss of your friend, Please, express to Ken my sympathy. It is always hard to lose a friend, or a loved one. It is something that will happen to us all. "What is man, his days are as grass, as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth."

Art Moretti said...

thank you M Cotton for these wise, soothing words.

Steve Cotton said...

Thanks, Gloria. I wish I could be in salem to offer some support to Ken. But he has penty of friends there.

Steve Cotton said...

I was trying to imagine what she would say in respondses. Probably something like: "Thanks. Now, get out there and start living."

Steve Cotton said...

And I have some great memories. Not to leave out -- admonitions.

Steve Cotton said...

If I ciould be in Salem for her memorial service, it would be similar to what I would say.

Steve Cotton said...

Thanks. Mom. It is a good reminder for us to remember our lives here are short, and the decisions we make do matter.

Steve Cotton said...

My Mom is a wise lady.

Mic said...

So sorry for your sadness, Steve.

Kim G said...

It sounds like she lived life to the fullest, and I'm sure you touched her in many ways. Thanks for sharing this poignant post.

Kim G
Boston, MA

Steve Cotton said...

She will continue to remind me of the importance of living my life to the fullest.

Steve Cotton said...

Like all sadness, the trick is how to find a way to apply it to my life.