This spring saw the passing of Lucille, a woman I have known my entire life. A native of our town, a friend of my mom and the person who had been a member of our church longer than anyone else living. Living into her 90s, she had lived an active life up until the last few years. Well into her 80s she remained an active member of the our state capitol's hiking club. I think that is pretty impressive.
She had a heart for helping and caring or others. At her funeral, I learned that she had always wanted to be a nurse but life had other plans for her and she never became an RN. What she did become was a caring mother, a doting grandmother who spent many hours caring for her grand-daughter and the caregiver to her husband who died before he could retire. After his death, she became a home health aide and worked with many people in the area. That job was interrupted with her daughter's diagnosis of cancer. Lucille cared for her divorced daughter up until the day she succumbed to it and also continued to care for her grand-daughter afterwards. A few years later, her only sibling died. Her brother, a farmer who never married, had his meals brought to him daily by his little sister, Lucille. She also did his laundry and mending. For the rest of her life, Lucille's only family consisted of her grand-daughter and eventually, her grand-daughter's husband.
Her beloved grand-daughter spoke with laughter and tears at Lucille's funeral. She shared quick stories of events in her grandmother's life, some of Lucille's favorite things -- flowers and the color pink -- and how she owed so much to her grandmother, including the desire to help others after Lucille's example; she became a nurse as her mother had before her.
At the luncheon that followed, cake was served with pink frosting and as each of us left, we were given a brown paper bag decorated with stickers of pink tulips and tiny polka dots containing a pink geranium. A tag was taped to the bag stating that we were to plant this gift in our gardens and to think of Lucille each time we looked at the geranium and cared for it. It was the only time I have gotten a 'treat bag' for attending a funeral and while it seems kind of weird in a way, when I think of the lady and what the gift represented, I am touched by the gesture and fondly remember Lucille. Each time I look at those pale, pink petals I am reminded of her caring heart and hands and while life may not let you become what you want, just bloom and grow where you are planted.
