Clarion call to those who are left behind

I went to a special birthday party on Sunday, July 3.

It was a casual get-together and a “No presents, please” occasion.

It was also one of those high-temperature days so naturally, I dressed casually and comfortably.

The celebrant of this special gathering was my

“oldest and dearest” friend so naturally, I looked forward to spending some “just we two” time as we have done so often throughout our lifetimes.

On this particular afternoon, I found my gal pal seated in her usual place, eyes open and a smile on her face. I sat down beside her and remembered how often I used to call her “Firecracker” — not only because she was born so close to Independence Day but because of that sparkling personality that drew so many into her large social circle.

She was always that pert, friendly blonde and I was the older, reserved, dark-haired cohort who envied her ease with people she hardly knew. She always loved to laugh and even now, those eyes crinkled on and off as I heard a bit of a giggle emerge from her lips.

“Are you making fun of me?” I asked gently, pretty sure that my latest rendition of “Happy Birthday” was not the most melodious version she had ever heard.

And then I began my litany of comments. “We really had fun riding our bicycles up and down Woodbine and we were stunned when our parents later told us that the nice older man who always wore a white tam and tipped it when he passed by, was a ‘retired’ gangster named Owney Madden.” And I still recall how scared we were that time we saw a blue snake sunning itself on the fence behind my grandmother’s house down the street from where you and your parents lived.

Another small laugh penetrated the silence. I offered her a sip of water and she sucked carefully on the special straw I held in place and drank it down slowly.

Seeing her eyes dart about the room, I got up and let a bit more sunshine into the space so she could see the big tree just outside. “That is so pretty,” I said, noting that she was indeed looking there with a pleasant expression on her sweet face.

“I can’t tell you how many times we trudged off into the woods behind my house on Prospect, playing like we were intrepid explorers looking for hidden treasures,” I said, adding, “You were always such a good sport and game for anything.” And then I said softly into her ear, “I still have that picture of us holding our two cats. Yours was called Pinky and mine was named Inky. They were our prized pets.”

And I rambled on, “Even when I went away to college and you did, too, there was nothing like getting back together and catching up on all the local gossip and spending holidays together. Your mother was so gifted musically and I was envious of her ability to play the piano by ear. And I still remember when you and my mother were both in the recovery room after surgery at the old St. Joseph’s hospital and you told me later that she saw you and said, ‘Just hang in there.’ She truly loved you as her own.”

Time for another water break and a love pat on her shoulder and arm. And a check to see if the coverlet around her thin little legs was still in place and providing some warmth. I would not be a very good attendant if her needs were not being met.

Time goes by swiftly when spent in the company of the people we love. And even though this was another mostly one-way conversation, just being there beside my BFF certainly made the difference in my day.

I hope she knows how much we will continue to value her as a wife, mother, confidant, and human being.

And one of these times, I hope she and our other precious ones will look down from Heaven above and know that mankind has finally kicked the hell out of Alzheimer’s disease and other forms of dementia that rob so many of so much.