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| Wilma Lynn Roberts, 1944 |
When I received
the call yesterday that my cousin Lynn was dying, I was thrown momentarily into
shock. While I had not seen her in a little over a year, our last visit had
been such a delightful one that it was difficult to think of her in any terms
except how she was that day.
My sister and I
had made the 100-mile journey to the retirement center where she lived last
spring, and took her for an outing. She picked Red Lobster when we asked where
she wanted to eat, and afterwards we took her over to her old house, where we
sat and visited in her comfortable, familiar living room before taking her back
to the tiny but homey room where she now lived.
It was a good
visit. Lynn was her usual cheerful self—fun-loving, cracking jokes, teasing,
but also talking seriously about things that were important to her. She talked
of her family and what each one was doing. Make no mistake, she knew exactly
where everyone was and what they were up to. Her pride and joy in each one of
them was evident, as always. She was overjoyed to have spent the day with us,
and we shared good conversation before leaving for our drive home. It seemed at
the time that she would be with us for years to come because her health was
reasonably good and her mind was sharp, especially for an 82-year-old.
So the news
yesterday that she had taken a very sudden turn for the worse was a shock to
us. We drove immediately the thirty miles to the hospital where she had been
admitted. She was sleeping restlessly, and seeing her in that hospital bed,
unaware of our presence, was a difficult sight to grasp. Before we left, Lynn was
awakened by the nurse on duty, and we got to speak to her briefly. She knew who
we were, and seemed to understand what we were saying and tried to make
conversation with us. The comprehension was evident in those beautiful blue
eyes of hers, even as she faced her last few hours. She left this earth and set
foot in the next life six hours later.
So many memories
surge through my mind when I think of Lynn. She was nineteen years older than
I, and married just a few months after I was born. Consequently, her children
were my peers, and I knew her only as their mom for a long time. They filled
that cousin role far more than she did. But as an adult, we became friends and
even though I was seldom around to visit with her, she welcomed me each time I
came as if I were the very person she most wanted to see.
Lynn related to
people that way. She was a warm lady, always welcoming and wanting people to
feel at ease in her presence. As a child, I remember my family spending so many
holidays and gatherings at her home, and she obviously loved to entertain. She
enjoyed people, children in particular, and I have no doubt that those
youngsters in her classroom at Farwell Elementary were blessed beyond measure
by her care and commitment to building their character.
A few years ago,
my sister and I arranged to go spend the day with Lynn one Saturday in October,
and since it was Halloween, we stopped and bought masks along the way. When we
stopped in her driveway, we put on our masks, grabbed some bags to use for
Trick or Treat, and rang her doorbell. When she opened the door, we shouted
“TrickerTreat” as loud as we could and stuck out our bags. She howled with
laughter, and we stepped inside and gave her a mask of her own to wear. We have
a hilarious photo (see below) of the three of us sitting on her couch, grinning and wearing
our Halloween masks. It was the sort of thing that tickled her, and we had a
great time that day.
It is
inconceivable that she is not here anymore; I was not finished being with her
and enjoying her company! There were more things I wanted to talk to her about
. . . more times I wanted to catch that twinkle in her eye or ask her more
stories about our Linn grandparents. Isn’t that the way it always is? Those who
are the most special people on earth are those who have never worn out their
welcome! We simply are not finished with them yet, and we mourn when they leave
us.
But for Lynn, if
we believe what we say we believe, this is the best of times! She believed in
God her whole life, and long ago committed herself to Him. She learned stories
about Jesus from her parents, and taught them to her own children. She “walked the walk” in ways that proved to all who knew her that she had found
the secret to a godly life, and was not about to let it get away from her. She
knew where she was going after death, and I believe was looking forward to
being there. I can imagine her big blue eyes are wide with joy and awe as she
takes in the sights of heaven, and reunites with loved ones who are already
there. And for that, I am a little envious. I will miss her here, but I will be
laughing and singing with her someday in her new home.
Thank you, Father
God, for sending this special one to live on earth and love us, and for the opportunity
to love her back.
