old friends

Next to my computer lays a Christmas letter I received from an old friend of mine.
I keep sitting down to write her back, but for some reason or other, I haven't yet done it.

Instead the piece of paper is being used to scribble notes on when I'm on the phone, or just need to jot something down I need to remember.

But today I WILL write her back.

I met Jean back in the days when I volunteered for a local AIDS organization. I met tons of wonderful people there, from all walks of life, all ages, all denominations, color and size.

Jean at her ripe old age of 70 - something, was involved in a multitude of actions. She was thoroughly involved in several AIDS groups, she was a staunch supporter of abortion rights, and worked as a guide/counselor, and as escort for women trying to enter Clinics. This could be dangerous work sometimes, but this tiny redheaded, spreckled Irish lady was a force to be reckoned with.

We continued sending each other Christmas and Birthday cards over the years. When we came back to Georgia however, she was no longer in Atlanta. She had endured many physical setbacks and decided to move back to here home, Chicago.

In the few years she has been there she has broken her hip, her shoulder, has been in and out of the hospital, moved from assisted living to now in a nursing home of sorts.

Always the optimist, she describes her joy of being home again, of being able to see the Chicago skyline from her window. Her grown children are in constant contact, but I gather she doesn't hear much from her old Atlanta 'friends'

Just makes me so sad. I mean, here you are, in the middle of so much activities, hundreds of people around you, never a dull moment.

Move away and POOF! All you friends disappear into thin air.

Although I am pretty much guilty of not keeping in touch either, at least I do write her once in a while.

I hope she is not too lonely up there. It doesn't sound so from her writing, always upbeat, laughing at herself, but still.

There are just a few people in this world who go about their business making a difference, without being on the front page, fading away as they get older, sick...forgotten.

She also had a wicked sense of humor:
Once in our little office, our volunteer manager (who was African American), Jean and I were organizing our desks. The manager mumbled: I need a little black box, at which Jean deadpanned: you already have one, dear!

Took me a while to 'get' that one.
:>)

SO.

Let's all remember a friend today. Write someone a hand written note (NO EMAIL)
Let them hear from you. Tell them they are on your mind, and that you appreciate them having made a difference in your life.

Jean sure did!

SGMKJ!