Remembering My Angel

Spring is a bittersweet time for me. I love all the reminders of new life but it is also a time when I remember someone who is no longer a physical part of my life. Five years ago this weekend, my dear friend, Diane, became an angel.
I met Diane when I was doing my graduate school internship at Norfolk Community Services Board. She had been there as a substance abuse counselor for a while and I was drawn early on to her office. She had a number of Native American objects and I asked her about her heritage and life. We quickly became close friends and she was my mentor for much of the next ten years.
Diane taught me a lot of things. She taught me that you should never judge a person by appearances. She looked like Mrs. Santa Claus, but when she was riled up she could swear like a trucker on steroids. I adored her.
She came into my life after a very bad period. I had spent the past twelve years trying to pull myself together after a divorce that had caused a rift in my relationship with my parents and I h was just coming off a relationship that had my head spinning for about ten of those years. Diane saw that I was wounded and she approached me with the care that one would with a suffering child.
Diane had her own wounds. She was a recovering alcoholic who had about twenty years of sobriety and was still dealing with the tragic death of her husband. Diane had survived beyond what many of us could and there was still more to come.
I think that Diane made me her project in the most loving and caring of ways. As a counselor, Diane felt that her goal, when all else failed, was to love someone back to spiritual health. She was determined to do that with me.
She gently tugged at me to join in on her family holidays and activities. I had spent quite a few Thanksgiving and Christmases alone and she was determined that I would find some joy in the holidays. It was hard not to feel her joy for the season. She often had three or four Christmas trees in her home and they were up until well into February. I think she would have kept them up all year if it had been possible.
She also loved yard sales. I have a whole line up of farm animal salt and pepper shakers that she found for me at various yard sales. She also did her Christmas shopping all year round. The only problem was she often forgot where she put the gifts by the time the holidays came around. I remember a couple of years when I had to wait until a few days after Christmas for my gift because she couldn’t find it or I received a gift in February because she suddenly found something she had bought for me the previous June and had forgotten about.
Over the course of five years Diane had a quintuple bypass, knee surgery, a hip replacement, lung cancer, and a number of infections due to her reduced immune function. I watched her health ebb and flow and was greatly concerned about her.
We spent Mother’s Day 2004 together. I took her to the Norfolk Botanical Gardens determined that we would find a way for her to be able to enjoy the full scope of the gardens even though she was unable to walk very far. She was very vain so she was not too keen on the idea of using a wheel chair. I did, however, convince her to take a ride on the trolley that traveled throughout most of the garden. We saw the rose garden, the azaleas, the ponds, egrets and geese. She was tickled and it showed.
A few months later she was feeling well enough for another outing so I told her we were going blueberry picking in Pungo, VA. I had her bring a stool and a bucket and when we got to the blueberry farm I had her sit with her bucket near a bush that was bursting with beautiful berries. She picked to her heart’s content and enjoyed the sun. We followed it up with a long ride through the countryside and saw a mare and two foals on a horse farm that we passed. It was a beautiful day.
Those are my some of my best memories of my Diane. She also accompanied me to our Unity church on many Sundays and was my greatest cheerleader when I would either play the keyboard (she would clap and get everyone started even though we rarely clapped after the music was played during the offering) and she smiled at me and nodded her head when on a couple of occasions I gave the Sunday talk.
Diane was also my Twelve Step sponsor. I did my fifth step (sharing my fourth step inventory of my life) and when I finished my list of all my failings and character defects she looked at me and very kindly said, “Now let’s talk about all the good stuff that you are and do.”
In September of 2004, Diane found out she had lung cancer. She had a rough winter the year before and they had been running a number of tests. She spent that Fall having chemotherapy and it was hard to watch her health slowly deteriorate. It was especially hard since she had recently retired and bought herself a lovely little house that she had plans to renovate. During her chemotherapy she had to move in with her daughter, Rachel, rather than enjoy her retired life doing what she loved most – digging in the dirt and planting a garden.
She completed chemotherapy and the tumor had shrunk to a point where it seemed she was on the mend. However, all of the operations she had over the years and her general poor health contributed to making her more and more susceptible to opportunistic infections.
Diane died on the first day of Spring in 2005. I was at her bedside along with her daughter. I was very grateful that Rachel had called when the hospital nurses told her that Diane would probably not make it through the night and she asked that I be with her at Diane’s side. We spent the whole night holding her hand and talking to her. I believe she knew we were with her.
I miss Diane’s physical presence in my life. She used to kiss me on the cheek and call me her “baby girl.” She also made me laugh on a regular basis with her antics and cussing. She was, and continues to be, my angel. There are many days when I can feel her presence and she often rides with me in the car as I travel the roads of New Hampshire. She was also with me in Nepal and Tibet in 2007 and she was thrilled when I got my new job here in Concord. I didn’t play the cello when she was alive, but I often play for her now. I know that when I am celebrating a success, she is right there with me, applauding and rising to her feet. Sometimes I can still hear that lovely giggle or her cackling laugh right before she says, "way to go, baby girl."