Annie, always smiling

I’ve been doing scrapbooking — books for grandchildren and my own. Recently I decided to create pages about friends for whom I had to say good-bye too soon. At least for the last of their earthly life. I ordered pictures to put in my book. Today my page is stuck on Annie.

Today I scrolled through her daughters’ Facebook pages looking for the exact day to add to my memory of her on the scrapbook page. The newspaper obituary had a blank space where that would have been, so I did another search and found the blog post on my earlier collection of posts and found what I needed. In July 2013, barely a month after Annie’s death, I wrote a memory piece about her in my earlier incarnation of this blog, Storygal. About how she was a friend and the things we talked about, things and people we cared deeply about.

Annie’s daughter Rachel was due to be married later that year, in October, and Annie was excited about it. Her son-in-law- to-be, Tim, had endeared himself to their family and especially Annie.

She said to me one day when we visited at her home, “Did you know that Tim is a writer too?”

I didn’t know that.

She said we ought to meet sometime. I believe our first meeting was Annie’s funeral day.

I remember, too, the day of my visit to the funeral home to pay my respects, how it rained so hard that day and there were small lakes in the parking lot and my feet were soaked when I entered the air-conditioned place. The abundance of rain matched my tears at losing my friend. I remember crying as I drove home. And I remember Annie’s husband saying to me, “You were a good friend to Annie.”

The wedding went ahead that fall, in October. Rachel and her sister, well, all the girls in the wedding party, looked stunning in the wedding photos. I can imagine it was a solemn day for the family in some respects, especially as weddings and family go together. I imagine Annie looking out from heaven, smiling, as she always did when I visited with her. Smiling at seeing Rachel and Tim married, the love of each other’s life. And they would imagine her there with them in spirit, without the earthly failing body that had slowed her life in those last years.

As I see photos from time to time on her daughters’ Facebook pages (because they are friends), I imagine, too, Annie’s joy in seeing the grandchildren she never got to hug or cuddle because they arrived later, after her last day on this earth.

Even though all this time has passed, I can still hear Annie say, “I put that note on my mirror to remind me, when I was getting ready for church …” and “I have your book on my dresser in my bedroom…” and how she was happy for me about my publications. I can still remember her soft laugh and her sparkling brown eyes as she laughed, and her kindness. And even now, there are tears as I remember. She was a cherished friend.

Annie, I hope you’re listening…