Wednesday, November 5, 2008

Loving Lucy...Part II

About a month ago, I couldn't get a hold of Lucy. Every time I would call her, there would be no answer. For a 92 year old, you can imagine she doesn't get out a whole lot. With an abundant amount of naivete, I figured that I was missing her each time I called. How odd. Well, the "realistic" Chersten kicked in about the third time I called Lucy and she didn't answer. Something must have happened. I tried neighbors. I tried family. I even tried the obituaries. Nothing. I finally got a hold of an acquaintance and found out that Lucy had been put in a rest home...forgive me...a "retirement" center. I was shocked. Lucy is not the "retirement center" kind of gal. She thrives at home. She loves home. I went to visit her that day. When I walked into the room, I saw bits and pieces of her home...a nightstand, her brown couch, and the picture of her deceased daughter. When Lucy came out of her room, there was something missing. I realized that part of her had faded with the home she no longer occupied.

You see, Lucy is her flowers. Lucy is that can of pepsi hiding in her fridge. Lucy is the smile behind the tear. Lucy is the pictures of family and friends on her fridge. Lucy is the vacumm that you have to hold just a certain way in order for it to work. Lucy is the little black cat that comes each time she opens the door to take out the trash. Lucy is the sweet quotes all over her home. So what happens when these seemingly meaningless things are taken away? Part of Lucy is gone.

I visited her again a few days ago. After the visit, I felt sad as I walked down the long hall from her room.

I blinked back tears as I heard a t.v. blaring, ironically, I Love Lucy.