4-27-2023 Thoughts, obituary, and pictures

It has obviously been a very difficult two weeks--the hardest of them all, and I suspect it will only get harder, at least initially. We arranged for Linda's cremation, and we have been trying to process that she is no longer here. I know that in past posts I had described how strange it was during the times when Linda was in the hospital, with the caregivers gone, the oxygen concentrator off, and the classical music no longer playing. But we knew that was temporary. It's quite a different kind of quiet when we know it's permanent.

I found a 2019 voicemail on my phone that she left me wishing me a happy birthday. I'm grateful to have this message, but it was also difficult hearing her voice from such a different time, when none of us knew what was in store.

Many have asked us about a service--in the past, Linda had told us that she didn't want a service (although one can't be certain that she truly meant it). Not to mention that a service is more for those who lost a loved one than the one who has been lost. That said, arranging a gathering is complicated by the fact that we are in St. Louis and most who knew her best are in Mountain View. However, we do hope to hold a celebration of her life later this year, even if it's something informal.

Coming back to Mountain View is going to be very bittersweet for me. The town was where I spent my entire childhood, and it has been my "home base" for the past 53 years. But Linda was the last of my family in the area, so my home base is gone as well. To make things even more final, my childhood home burned down in 2021 (the universe knows how to make a point!). This realization makes this loss even heavier. But I know many others have experienced something very similar--I can only hope that it will get better over time. 

I wanted to share this link to Linda's obituary for those who might not have seen my post on Facebook. As we prepared the obituary, we went through old photos, and we found many that made us smile, at least a little. I wanted to share a few with everyone:

Linda, as a child

Linda, with the family dog Fritzy in Freeburg, Illinois

Linda and Marilyn, Christmas 1957

Marilyn, age 15, with Linda, age 12

High school photos

November 1965 - Even at 17, she did not like having
her picture taken and would take the nearest
object to block her face--in this case, a piece of bologna!

In her 20s, at my childhood home in Mtn. View

On her 34th birthday, January 1982





Thanksgiving 1982


1983--we were on vacation in St. Louis
at the Goldenrod Showboat. Here, Linda
 is trying not to be in the shot. :-)

Marilyn and Linda in Eureka Springs, Arkansas, 1988

Christmas 1988

Christmas 1990

Christmas 1993

Marilyn, Mother, me, and Linda - Christmas 1997

Linda at the trailer on the 100 acres that she
owned, and that our brother Bobby had been
using as a hunting cabin (hence the deer, which would not
suit Linda's decorating style!).

Linda with Mother

Amy, the very kind director at the Cremation Society of Missouri, presented us with potential verses to include on memory cards, we chose one for the card that spoke to her ongoing presence in our lives, but there was another verse that hit us hard, because it described so well what Linda has gone through these past two years, and we with her. After doing a bit of research online, I found that the original poem was written by a woman named Frances M. Coelho in memory of her mother. Many people have customized or adapted it over the decades. Although Linda was not a religious person, I see why this poem offers such comfort.

Come With Me

By Frances M. Coelho (1939)

God saw you were getting tired

And a cure was not to be,

So He put His arms around you,

And whispered, “Come to me.”

 

With tearful eyes we watched you,

And saw you pass away,

Although we loved you dearly,

We could not make you stay.

 

A golden heart stopped beating,

Hard-working hands at rest,

God broke our hearts to prove to us

He only takes the best.

❤       ❤      ❤