Going Home

It is with a heavy heart, and a saddened mind that I write this post.

Friday evening I spent the night at the home of my dearest next-door neighbor who for the past two years, has been fighting a brave battle against Pulmonary Fibrosis.
Linda has never smoked cigarettes, her disease was hereditary, and had already claimed the life of her mother and brother.

Her condition in these past few months had deteriorated immensely, family members faced with taking care of her every need, exhausted.

I volunteered to stay with Linda, and give what relief I could offer.

She underwent a difficult night, her breathing shallow and labored. I fed her a small bowl of ice-cream, wiped her fevered brow, massaged her blue-tinged feet, and told her how much I valued our friendship, and loved her as a sister.

The following morning, the Hospice nurse arrived.

I offered to stay, although family members were present, and I felt it best give them their privacy and so returned home.

Exhausted, and filled with despair I laid down to sleep.

Within an hour I received a text-message that simply read "Heaven"

I knew my dear friend had passed and was now on her journey 'home'........

Fifty eight years young, a true friend and neighbor.

A hard-working lady, never married.

A proud country girl, who loved her family and church-family.

A true-animal lover in every sense of the word.

A dedicated sister and daughter, who cared for her ailing family.

A lady who loved life, and shared that love with those around her.

Godspeed you on your journey 'home' Linda.

There's a triumphant welcome awaiting you.

I already miss you my dear friend.

Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow,
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain,
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush,
I am in the graceful rush
Of beautiful birds in circling flight,
I am the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there. I did not die.

~ Mary Elizabeth Frye