Widow. It’s a word no woman wants to describe her. But there are many. Over the last several years, I have had the privilege of coming to know the deep well that is a widow’s heart through friendships with some amazing women who are walking that road. Walking together.
There is a group of women who gather once per month for lunch. Simple fare. Nothing fancy. No hotdishes and bacon wrapped whatever. They dine on cheese and crackers, and they meld their hearts together. Widows Walk is what they call themselves. And their walk amazes me.
I’ve been fighting a virus all week. The worst I’ve experienced in a long time. And the virus made its way into my lungs with the start of pneumonia. The pneumonia triggered asthma, which I have not dealt with since I was a child. Needless to say, I’ve been down for the count. So sitting at home trying to breathe, I was scrolling through Facebook and came across the news. My great uncle Roger passed away. He had fought a respiratory disease for several years. After just a few days with respiratory issues, I realize the struggle this must have been. On Thursday, Roger breathed his last and Jesus called him home.
I have many memories, from my childhood to the present, of Roger and Ellen Fredlund at every important family event. Ellen is my grandpa McDougall’s sister. Before my time, my mother told me, Ellen used to organize family reunions and gather the extended family together. But each branch of the family tree grew, sprouted new branches, and eventually those branches sprouted new, and the tree was simply too big to gather in one location anymore. So the gatherings were limited to mostly weddings, funerals, and graduation parties in my lifetime. But I always had the feeling when I saw Roger and Ellen that they were so happy to see me. They were interested in my life. And in every single memory I have of uncle Roger, he was smiling. Every. Single. One. Continue reading