The Secret Pine Cone Picker Upper

I went to say goodbye to a friend today.

A real goodbye. We're leaving for a week of vacation and I suspect that she won't be here when we return. By then, the cancer that's spreading within her will have won ...

... and the world will have lost this beautiful, kind, smiling woman.

It's a strange thing ... saying goodbye for the last time. Jim and I were nervous as we drove to the tidy, little house where my friend lives with her darling husband, next door to our first house. We knew she was sick and that things weren't going well, but neither one of us had any idea what we were going to say when we walked through her door.

"We're going to be cheerful and not cry," I said, when Jim asked what we were supposed to do once we got there, his bewilderment matching my own. It was the only reasonable way I could think to approach it.

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We'd gotten a call early this morning from the gentleman who bought our first house. He said that our friends had come home early from their annual California trip and that there had been a lot of activity since they returned.

We knew what that meant.

So Jim called that tidy little house. I was upstairs and he was down in his office, but I could hear him on the phone. While I couldn't make out the words, I could tell the conversation didn't take very long. Then I heard Jim climbing the steps.

I knew what he was going to say before he opened his mouth. His tears had already started and mine quickly followed.

"He said we should come see her today or tomorrow," Jim said.

I'm pretty sure there was a string of expletives. And more tears. We both stood there and hugged and cried. I wanted to throw things and hit things and kick things. But I did none of that. I just sobbed.
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I was expecting her to be in bed. I was happily surprised when I heard her call out as we walked in the back door.

We had a quick exchange with her husband as we kicked off our shoes and could tell what the situation was, though no words were said. Cheerful and no crying. Cheerful and no crying. Cheerful and no crying. I just kept repeating it in my head as I rounded the corner.

There she was, fully made up, sitting in her cheerful, sunny front room, on the new furniture I'd only seen once before. She had her feet up on the ottoman, a pretty light blue fleece hoodie on and a cozy blanket tossed over her legs and feet.

All of the nervousness quickly dissipated. We sat down, like we had a hundred times before, and had us a visit. A good, old fashioned chat.

They told us about their trip to California to see their son. They updated us on their grandson's progress as a professional umpire. She quickly filled us in on their rather hurried departure from the San Diego area as soon as they knew that things had taken a turn and of her short stay at the hospital here.

We told her a few funny stories. I showed off some pictures of Bella's new hair and Jim talked about Kati's new puppy.

She said hospice was now coming to the house. She didn't have to say that the hospital sent her home because there was nothing more they could do.

But we all understood that loud and clear.

I could see her getting tired, so it was time to go. I gave her a hug and told her I loved her. She said it back. Jim did the same.

We gave her husband another squeeze at the back door, We said all the things you're supposed to say ... "if you need anything, let us know ... "don't be afraid to call" ... "love you" ...

And we left.

A goodbye without a goodbye uttered.

Cheerful and no crying has left the building. My heart is heavy, and the tears are still flowing.

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THE STORY OF THE SECRET PINE CONE PICKER UPPER
There once was a young woman who bought her first house in a cute, well-kept neighborhood on the west side of town. She didn't know much about running a household of her own, but managed to get the lawn mowed every week and the dishes done on a relatively regular basis.

One day, she came home from work and noticed that the front hedges had been trimmed. Other strange things also happened. Sometimes the leaves seemed to rake themselves. Occasionally, the sidewalks would be miraculously clear after a daytime snowfall.

The young woman began to suspect the retired man who lived next door was secretly taking care of her house. And she began to thank him profusely. She brought him gifts. She made sure he knew how much she appreciated him.

In the front yard of this house was a very, very tall pine tree. To be honest, it was a bit out of proportion for the small yard and tiny little ranch house. Its lower branches easily created a 20' diameter canopy. When the young woman would mow her lawn, she was able to stand up under the pine tree's bottom branches ... because the kindly neighbor man would keep them trimmed.

Again, she made sure he knew how much she appreciated his help.

But there was something very strange about this pine tree.

Never did it drop a pine cone. Not one. Was it some sort of mutant hybrid pine tree, the young woman wondered? It dropped a zillion brown pine needles, to be sure, but never a pine cone.

Little did she know, the kindly retired neighbor man had a secret accomplice.

Her name was Margaret and she collected pine cones from that big pine tree daily. Just to be nice.

She never mentioned it. She never did it when the young woman was home to see it. She let the young woman think her husband did all the work.

That's how she is.

And so is this:
She makes sun tea in a big jug on her patio table by the back door. She also likes to have a happy hour cocktail out there when the weather is nice. She walks miles and miles around the neighborhood, enjoys lemon desserts and prefers the color blue. She adores her grandson Sean and always refers to her kids as "My Jean" and "My Jim." Her Christmas Village graces her bay window in her front room every year, complete with angel hair snow. She nursed her husband Dick back to strength after a few heart-related scares and she loves to tell their love story. (It is one for the ages!)

I wish you could know her.