The passing of a neighbor

I moved to Florida in my late twenties with a childhood friend. We lived with her grandparents while we established ourselves and got our shit together. One of the requirements that the grandparents asked of us was to join them for their big meal, eaten during the middle of the day, if we were home. That meant joining them and their "gang" of seniors at a different local restaurant and sometimes at one of the senior's home.

The "gang" consisted of friends from the grandparent's home state and friends they had made from their time living in Florida. They were all in their late 70's and 80's and they were all full of vim and vigor. They were the liveliest, funniest, happiest group of people that I had ever met. They loved to play games and cards. One loved sewing. One enjoyed baking. One golfed daily. One was a history buff. One of them told jokes every time there was a lull in the conversation. They were so far removed from the elderly people I knew from back home. These folks were alive.

I soon discovered that this was the norm for seniors in Florida. These people had moved to the southern state to live when they retired. They were all active and on the go. No sitting in chairs with afghans on their laps. Florida seniors were holding down second jobs, volunteering their time and expertise, riding their bikes for transportation, and experiencing things they hadn't gotten around to the first half of their lives. The thing I loved most about all of them was their willingness to make friends with my generation.

I ended up with a fistful of senior friends. They lived through my courtship with Tom. They attended my bridal shower and wedding. They watched me grow bigger with my first child and offered up advice and babysitting when she was born. I cried in their arms when my father died and lovingly planted the tree they bought me to always remember him by. I ate dinner at their homes and danced with them at clubs. We celebrated birthdays and holidays. Sometimes we just got together for fun. I never thought any differently about them as I did my younger friends.

The downside of those friendships, of course, was death. Death tended to come sooner to my senior friends then my others. Recently it has come all at once. In the past three years I have lost three good friends. Yesterday I lost another.

Garnet was my neighbor two doors down. When we first moved into the neighborhood she was still working. I got to know her husband before I knew her because he was home and very interested in chatting with his neighbors. It was only after she retired and began taking care of her husband during his poor health that I got to know her. She gave me glimpses into her life. She gave advice in her deep smoker's voice whether you wanted it or not. She made us laugh with her quick wit. Still she refused to come into my home for parties. "I'm a dud at parties," she would tell me. "Since I quit the drinking and pole dancing I'm just not much fun." Last year after getting our dog we became real friends.

Garnet had a puppy. I had a puppy. She was home alone during the day. I was home alone during the day. She hated cleaning and was bored. I hated cleaning and was bored. We bonded. Every day twice a day we met in one of our yards. We walked the dogs and we talked. After our walks we stood and talked. Sometimes for hours. Every few nights we sat in her driveway and talked some more. Eventually more neighbors would join us and we would have a coffee klatch going over the gossip of the neighborhood and the dirty deeds of the past few days. Both my girls would sit in her living room after school and tell her the trials and tribulations of middle school. She gave my elder daughter advice about dresses and how to care for them. She finally gave in and attended a party at my house.

She was one of the funniest women I knew. She could zing out one liners faster than anyone I knew. She had my dad's sense of humor and some of his sayings. Once after she had to call 911 I ran into her house to find her on the floor, paramedics hovering above her. "Garnet," I sighed. "You always have to cause trouble." She raised her head and looked at me. "I know," she agreed, "but I wish I had known all these good looking guys were coming cause I would have worn a sexier nightgown."

In March her puppy took her by surprise and pulled her over in her zeal to catch a squirrel. She broke her hip. She had surgery. She was recovering quite nicely. We met daily to sit in the driveway where she would hold court with the other neighbors. Then one morning she fell again. She blacked out and fell backwards into her bathtub. She refused to go to the doctor. "Flushing the toilet," she told me. "Who falls doing that?" I told her to flush before she stood up next time. She agreed that might work. Unfortunately she kept falling.

Three weeks later she was back in the hospital and they discovered a mass in her brain. Cancer had spread throughout her spine. The doctors gave her a week. She lasted a little longer just to show them. I'm going to miss her dreadfully.