June 23, 2002

Paradise Suddenly Lost The

Paradise Suddenly Lost

The choice to move our lives to rural Floyd County removed us physically from large chunks of humanity, at least large chunks experienced all at once. Our further choice three years ago to move to Goose Creek put us in one of the sparsest parts of a thinly settled place. These choices, and our lack of the joining instinct, have made us learn to tolerate having few friends here.

Joe and Lynn have been our only true friends here since the very beginning. Joe was the physician in whose clinic the Floyd PT clinic was begun. I met him on my second or third visit before taking the job, by which time we had decided that we would indeed move to Floyd. Learning that, Joe suggested he knew someone who could help us find a place to live. And he called his wife, Lynn. Lynn, at the time, was a real estate agent in her own business, and I have never been befriended so fast and so genuinely by anyone in my life. We finally found a place that was suitable, and were invited to Lynn and Joe's house for a meal of home-made vegetable soup, and to sign the papers. That was our first of very many meals together, and drinks, and music, laughter and deep discussions.

Lynn died in her sleep last night. She was forty-five. How is it possible that she, the youngest of our foursome, should be the first to leave; and without any warning? What does one do in a shattering situation like this? All I can think to do is to write. And the words won't come.

Lynn, you wore purple while you were young. You gave way more than you got. You sucked the marrow out of life and excelled from a caring heart at all you did in this life: as a woodworking student at Berea; as a nurse in Laurel Fork; as a Park Ranger on the Blue Ridge Parkway; (it never seemed appropriate to call you an 'agent', you were so much more:) as a real estate care-giver; as an investment care-giver. And your greatest role was certainly as devoted wife to our dear friend Dr. Joe.

We will miss your quick wit and mock-sarcasm; your little-girl dimples, tiny voice and lisp; and your genuine appreciation for the elderly, the Appalachians, and Floyd County. Thank you for being our friend, WOODGAL.

Posted by fred1st at June 23, 2002 07:13 AM
Post a comment

Remember Me?