Covid Journal, Day 161: Good-bye to a good friend

70 this morning, another hot day but showering and thundering as I write.

Last week was a roller coaster of emotions: anxiety about our van, satisfaction as we put up more food for winter, joy at finding a replacement van, happiness over good sales at our booths, and sadness.

My friend Brenda finally lost her fight against brain cancer. Hers was a two-year journey, and for a long while it looked like she might win. But as often happens, a fall led to other issues and a steady downturn in her health. 

Brenda was my first friend here on the ridge, and lived only a mile away. I often walked to her house to meet my sons when the got off the bus. I'd get there early enough for Brenda and I to have a cup of instant coffee and a good visit. Since I had no telephone then, and no family within hundreds of miles, our friendship was my main communication with another woman for weeks at a time sometimes. We share political and ethical outlooks; our children were the same ages and we were both into growing our own food. Brenda got a milk goat just before we got ours; she had chickens too, and gardened and canned. We had much in common, even though we were raised in completely different places. She'd even lived for a few years in northern Virginia, where I grew up, so she understood my background.

I remember her parents, too, good people who could sure raise vegetables. For a few years Brenda helped her father grow truck crops to sell at a farmer's market; never have I seen such beautiful broccoli and cauliflower from a home garden. Her mother was an excellent country cook, and I shared many a treat she made.

Our boys and Brenda and Dave's girls played together like siblings. Brenda once had to take our son Aaron to school when he'd dawdled so badly on the walk to the bus that my other sons told the bus driver to just leave him behind.  When I decided to take the test for LPN school, Brenda encouraged me; although I did well on the test I did not get the same encouragement from my then-husband and didn't follow up. But her faith in my ability was a boost to my shy self. She began raising foster children, and I was impressed by her willingness to share her home and life with troubled children. 

When a long strike threatened at Dave's workplace, they sold their house and moved closer to town. By that time I was working as a part-time mail carrier and my marriage was foundering. With still no telephone, we were out of touch for several years. Then I remarried, Brenda went to nursing school, I went to college and had a baby. We saw each other from time to time, and it was always like picking up a conversation where we left off only minutes before. 

Finally, about 5 years ago, Brenda and Dave moved back to his homeplace, just a few miles down the road. I wish I could say that we once again saw each other often, but as usually happens, we just never got back into the habit. She was still raising foster children--and had adopted four--and I was busy with storytelling and our booths at antique malls. We'd stop to chat occasionally but didn't have the long visits of the past.

Although I didn't see her much in the past few years, I will miss Brenda very much. She was the good friend that was always there, and now she's gone, much too soon. 

Brenda's obituary is here. 

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.