A friend of mine died last week. She was 87. At first I was really sad. But then I started to think about the celebration her life had been.
Meg was a poet. An only child, she'd married a gifted, eccentric artist and had five children. They lived in a huge mansion in Connecticut that they couldn't afford, because everything was sacrificed to her husband's whim and he wanted the house. The more frustrated he grew with his struggling career, the more mentally and emotionally abusive he became.
Her own work was buried by his, but when the children were grown she decided she'd had enough. Already in her 60's, she found the courage to leave him. She walked away with nothing and wound up taking a job as a house-mother at a women's college in Connecticut. There, she was able to take classes and save a little money. Most important, she was finally on her own.
Eventually she decided to place a call to her old friend and family pediatrician, Dr. B. His wife was dead, and he was at least 15 years her senior, but he was still practicing medicine in a rather dubious section of Brooklyn.
They dated for a while, and then Meg moved to Brooklyn and they married. Somewhere along the way, they bought a house on the Vineyard, and it was here that they came when Dr. B finally retired at age 90. They had 12 happy years together before he died.
Meg stayed on in the Vineyard house. She traveled and cooked and returned to her early love of writing poems. It was through poetry that she came into my life. She hosted fabulous parties with all her many friends: artists, writers, professors; she had an eclectic assortment of people that she collected and held dear.
A few years ago she moved to Boston to enjoy the conveniences of city life. When I went to stay on weekends, it was clear she'd already developed a network of friends. She was swimming and had season tickets to the theater. She'd started a Facebook page to keep in touch with her younger friends and family. I wasn't really that surprised the day I received her "friend request."
She had her own table at several neighborhood restaurants, and she'd published a book of her poetry. She even told me about her steamy affair with a man little more than half her age.
Two years ago she took her granddaughter to Europe. And, despite a broken hip, cardiac bypass surgery, and stomach cancer, all in the last year and a half, she was still living alone and planning a trip to Greece this winter. And she was gathering poems to publish a second collection.
She'd called me just a few weeks ago to invite me to her annual New Year's Day party, and we were making plans to get together on her next visit to the Vineyard over the Jewish holidays. But she never made it.
I'll miss Meg, but I was blessed to have her as my friend. She found joy in everything, and no matter how many years had gone by, she never gave up believing there was even more joy to come.
But she put it best herself:
Our lives were always a little less and more than that which we had
bargained for.
And:
Light is fading; we must go. Oh world, oh world, I love you so.
I am sorry for your loss.
Your post touched me more than you know.
Posted by: Ocean Girl | October 13, 2009 at 08:19 AM
What a wonderful lady! You were lucky to have her in your life.
Posted by: Joanie M | October 13, 2009 at 08:41 AM
Wow. What an amazing woman. I'm sorry to hear she has gone.
Posted by: class factotum | October 13, 2009 at 09:15 AM
That is indeed a life well lived and I hope I am like her when I am older. How lucky for you that she was a part of your life!
Posted by: Jen on the Edge | October 13, 2009 at 09:51 AM
Amazing. What a lovely story.
Posted by: Erin@TheLocalsLoveIt | October 13, 2009 at 10:19 AM
What a beautiful tribute to your dear friend. I am so sorry for your loss but so happy she was able to touch your life in the way that she did. She sounds like such an amazing soul.
Posted by: Jane | October 13, 2009 at 10:32 AM
I loved this tribute to your friend . Her story is very inspiring.
Posted by: Pseudo | October 13, 2009 at 11:33 AM
Very inspiring!
Posted by: Nina | October 13, 2009 at 11:33 AM
So sorry you lost your friend. I think she would have liked the eulogy you wrote her. She lived a very full life and never gave up. :O)
Posted by: Diane | October 13, 2009 at 11:44 AM
Thank you for the perspective.
Posted by: LPC | October 13, 2009 at 01:29 PM
I'm sorry you lost your friend. It sounds like she was very near and dear to your heart. She is honoured every time someone reads this post - I love it. Fantastic tribute!
Posted by: Picture Imperfect | October 13, 2009 at 01:55 PM
She sounds like such an inspiring woman, I'm glad you got to know her and I'm sorry for your loss.
Posted by: Casey | October 13, 2009 at 01:57 PM
Nice to have lived such an interesting life. What was the name of her published work?
Posted by: Heather | October 13, 2009 at 01:59 PM
I will agree with all of the above comments and then I'll add this: If it were not for your perspective a couple weeks ago when my grandmother died, I would have taken it a lot harder than I did. Thank you for pointing out to me, that in death, we can really celebrate the life of people; that getting the family together was grandma's last gift. You've forever changed my perspective!
Posted by: ~The South Dakota Cowgirl~ | October 13, 2009 at 03:47 PM
I am sorry for your loss, but I am so happy you shared her with us. Thank you!
Posted by: Erin | October 13, 2009 at 05:02 PM
A beautiful tribute! Maureen, I'm so sorry for your loss, but so happy you were touched by someone so lovely.
Posted by: Sprite's Keeper | October 13, 2009 at 10:19 PM
as a single mother, this story is so inspiring. As someone who has been afraid of so much in her life, this story is so inspiring.
thank you
Posted by: Jessica | October 13, 2009 at 11:41 PM
I'm sorry your friend has passed ... but I found her story so uplifting. What a fantastic life! Thank you for sharing it ...!
Posted by: Twenty Four At Heart | October 14, 2009 at 12:49 AM
She sounds amazing! People like her are very inspiring.
Posted by: Kimberly | October 14, 2009 at 01:18 AM
This made me very misty-eyed. That is something I'd love to have someone say about me when I'm gone - it was a life well-lived.
(((Maureen)))
Posted by: Jan | October 14, 2009 at 11:24 AM
Beautifully written, Its amazing what people bring to our lives and how unexpected it is sometimes.
Posted by: Bonnie | October 14, 2009 at 02:44 PM
thank you for this post. when I saw it yesterday I read it twice. And thought about it all last night. And applied it to what I'm going through with my grandmother and I'm feeling much better about things.
I'm so sorry about your loss, and I'm happy you can see such beauty in the life she lived
Posted by: Lora | October 14, 2009 at 04:19 PM
It sounds like a life well and fully lived. I can only hope for as much. Wonderful post!
Posted by: Jill | October 15, 2009 at 06:36 PM