Last week was most eventful.
Monday was our fifty-third wedding anniversary.
Tuesday was my seventy-eighth birthday.
Wednesday, I lost a daughter.
At least that’s how I thought of Patsy Terrell. When I told her I adopted daughters and wanted her as one, she didn’t seem to mind at all. We were in touch via Facebook as often as I was in touch with my eldest daughter in Florida.
Patsy and I met at a memoir workshop hosted by the Hutchinson Library, I believe in the fall of 2010, if memory serves. I was amazed that this beautiful young woman would choose to spend time with an old lady. But she approached me about having lunch together, which we did at Jillian’s.
When I asked her what made her want to know me, she said she liked having a wide range of friends. She knew that not everyone is like everyone else and that having friends of all persuasions can beautifully enrich one’s life.
We were very different – and very alike – in many ways. She was in her forties; I in my seventies. She was outgoing, attending virtually every public event in her reach; I was (and still am) constrained to a much narrower social life for a variety of reasons.
But we were both curious, life-long learners, with teachers’ hearts. She loved to travel, and I traveled with her vicariously, as she wrote about it and shared pictures on line.
Shortly after we met, Harvest House published my devotional gift book, As Grandma Says. Patsy asked if she could make a trailer for it. She wanted the practice. Just like everything she created, it was beautifully done.
Patsy enriched my life immeasurably.
I know that I am not the only one who misses her dreadfully.