Several years ago, I wrote a poem called “Chapter’s End” when I was feeling nostalgic and a little depressed.  This week, my daughter reminded me of the poem when once again something happened which was both heartrending and unexpected.  These are the last three verses of the poem.

Life needs to sound a warning bell
when chapters start to close.
The last page may end abruptly
before a person knows.

"You can't go back, folks often say.
"You should forget the past."
But it might help if we could know,
this time will be our last.

There is seldom any closure;
no fanfare, nor good-byes.
Change sneaks upon us silently
and takes us by surprise.

My daughter and I volunteered to help my best friend, Joy, prepare for a move she didn’t want to make.  At 84 and left crippled from a bacterial infection, she was forced to realize it was time to give up the place she loved to move nearer her children in another state. Since we lived nearly four hours away, she didn’t want us to make the trip if she could handle it. On Sunday, she realized it was more than she could handle alone, and she asked us to come. She had been feeling ill for a week and suspected she might have contracted Covid.

Our trip was planned for Tuesday. She and I talked on Monday, as we generally do. She was looking forward to our visit. The following morning, I was busy packing and getting ready to leave, and it slipped my mind I’d not gotten her usual early phone call. As we were leaving, I called to let her know when we would arrive, but got no answer. I left a message assuming she might be in the bathroom, but later phone calls still went unanswered.

Knowing she lived alone and hadn’t left her house in over a week due to feeling slightly ill, we became more and more concerned as we traveled. What if she had fallen and couldn’t get to the phone? What if she is too sick to answer, or worse?  We hurried not making any stops along the way, as we might have. What if the house is locked, and we can’t get in?

Upon arriving, our fears were confirmed when we found the house was locked. Peering into the windows, my daughter was able to see Joy, sitting in her favorite chair. The lamp was on and she looked like she might be sleeping. Loud knocks didn’t get a response. My daughter was convinced she had passed away. There seemed no way to get inside, so there was nothing we could do but call the emergency number. Eventually, the house had to have a window pushed out and a door broken open.

When it was confirmed, she was indeed dead, we had to get in touch with her daughter in Florida. What a horrible phone call to make. The shock was almost more than the daughter could handle. From over eight hours away, she had to deal with her own grief while telling the sad news to her brothers, the grandchildren and Joy's sister in Virginia. 

Now, three days later, I’m back home. This morning when the phone rang, my first thought was Oh, that’s Joy calling for our usual chat.  Then reality dawned. Our last phone call ever was on Monday. Joy has been in my life since I was fourteen. She was a relative, but most of all, she was my best friend. We’d shared every secret in our lives since teen days. We’d traveled hundreds of miles together and cried together when sadness entered our lives. She was the sister, I never had. How do you say ‘goodbye’ to someone so close. The older we get the more ‘goodbyes’ all of us will have. Not all will be so sudden with no time to prepare. For the one whose time has come, it may be easier to leave quickly.

I have to remember on her last phone call, she told me, “I don’t want to move. I will cry many tears. I’d hoped I could live out my life in this place that I love so much.” 

The emergency workers, who had entered the house, remarked this was the most peaceful death scene they had ever witnessed. It was as if her wish had been granted. Joy looked relaxed and at peace. For her, I think her chapter ended the way she would have chosen.