Rowena

Dear Rowena,

Just a note to let you know that I'm thinking of you... and of Sunday night dinners at the Old Oaken Bucket... and of mincemeat pies at your annual Christmas Open House... and of family camping trips... and of digging a hole to China in your yard with Chris... and of a childhood sick day spent on your couch when my mother had an important meeting to attend... and of the lace that you sewed on the bodice of my 6th grade costume to make it less revealing... and of the time I wore my father's underwear on my head to get your boys to smile for a Christmas card photo (what a great picture that was!)... and of your beautiful voice carrying all of our tuneless voices in America The Beautiful at countless Thanksgivings...

It seems that I have nearly as many childhood memories that took place in your home as in my own. I'm grateful for all of them.

I know that there are many, many people praying for you and wishing you peace right now. Please count me among them, and know that you are in my thoughts and in my heart.

Love, Becca

She appeared on our doorstep just after my brother was born, a representative of the La Leche League bearing a hot meal and an offer of friendship and support. The tuna noodle casserole was forgettable, but what followed wasn't -- over the next 3 decades, she became one of my mother's closest friends and a constant in our lives. She knew me as well as any adult during my childhood, and for many years was a virtual second mother to me.

She's been sick with cancer for well over a year now, and this week, at her request, all tubes and support were removed and she was sent home to die. I hope that my note, which I've been thinking about writing for weeks but only just got into the mailbox today, reaches her in time.