LISTEN UP!

NOTE!  Read entry for March 30 ("Still Walking Around") before you read this post.

After Marcel died, Linda checked in on me from time to time. That next March, we took my sons to the St. Patrick’s Day parade in downtown Lawrence. One of her grown daughters, R., came along with us. Linda snuggled and fussed over my boys that day, like an affectionate favorite aunt. She talked a lot about her other daughter, A., who lived in Georgia. I have photos of us together that day…somewhere. (I told you, I am unorganized.)

     Linda moved away. She called me once to check in on me. I was so happy to hear from her. She lived in Oklahoma then. She asked if I’d remarried, and I said no. “Yeah, I haven’t either”, she said. I took down her new contact info, planning to stay in touch. I thought of her a lot—like so many people I think about—usually when driving around, and I’d think, “I have to look up Linda and see how she is doing.” I couldn’t find the scrap of paper that I’d scribbled her contact info on.

     A few times, I looked for her online. There are a LOT of people named Linda Bell. As a parent to young kids, I’d get interrupted, and vow to take up the search again soon. Yesterday, writing the entry in my blog about Linda, I vowed to find her before the day was over. If she still lived in Oklahoma…I would visit her, and share my blog entry from yesterday with her. I’d hold her hand, and hug her, and thank her and she could see the boys and how big they have become. Or maybe we wouldn’t have to say much… maybe I could just Be There With Her. Just thinking about it made me feel like springtime.

   Have you ever left the house in a hurry, only to find out it is a lot colder out than you thought it was…and you are not dressed warmly enough?  That first inhale of cold grey air hits your nostrils and you breathe it in and it goes through you and in one instant, it makes the whole of you cold and grey.

     I didn’t find contact info online for Linda yesterday.

     I found her obituary. It was one of those archived articles. You can see the first line, but to read the rest, you have to pay a fee to access it. Insult to injury—bad news, and you have to PAY to read it. Maybe it was some other Linda Bell? I paid the fee and read the notice. It was My Linda Bell.

   I was two years too late. Linda died February 2009.

   Well, if I could not thank Linda personally, I owed it to her family to share my blog post yesterday with them. From Linda’s obituary, I had her daughters names. I found them on Facebook. Their photos were there—beautiful women, who looked very much to me to have substance, and vibrancy and a clear unwavering gaze. Like Linda. I sent them both a message, saying I had known their mom and would like to share a story about her with them.

     I didn’t know if I should expect a response. There are a lot of scam artists online. It wouldn’t be unreasonable for them to be suspicious. And people grieve differently. Some people shut themselves off.  Not everyone wants to talk about it.

     I needn’t have wondered. A very gracious response from A. arrived almost immediately. “It’s always wonderful to hear stories about Mom” she said. After sharing my blog entry with her, she emailed me, telling me that Linda lost her battle to breast cancer at Midland Hospice. The same place where, 9 years earlier, Linda met me after church to help us in our time of need.
     Touchingly, A. had signed her email to me, Still Walking Around.

     I’m disappointed in myself for not taking my search for Linda more seriously sooner. But I’m happy to be in contact with her daughters.

     Note to self:  Don’t wait till the house is clean, or the dishes are done, or “until things calm down around here.” Things are NEVER GOING TO CALM DOWN AROUND HERE. There will always be something nutty going on. And in the midst of that, I still need to listen to that voice and obey it. The one that says to make time, and to reach out, regardless. I hear it. I don't always listen to it. 

     Linda listened.