I write this mainly for me as a remembrance and a process in
grieving for my friend Rita.
I’d known her for less than a year. I joined the gym last
July and started a water aerobics class. She was the classy older Afrikaans
lady with the warm smile. She was friendly and we had a little small talk in
the locker room but we were so vastly different. Then, last September she fell and broke her
leg. Some might say it was the start of her end but for me it was the beginning
of something beautiful.
My missionary friend, Char, suggested we go visit her in the
hospital. Since Mitch’s 5 month stay there the year before, Char was very
sensitive to visiting those in the hospital, and so I went mainly to humor her.
What would an elegant lady 16 years my
senior, really want with 2 American ladies visiting her in the hospital? She
was a riot. She was feisty and independent, funny and endearing. Me, being the
sensitive type (not), didn’t bring her flowers or juice or a magazine but
rather a long pair of BBQ tongs to help her pick up things while she recovered.
She loved them and used them often she told me last month. Char and I found that we lived very close to
Rita and took her on a few errands when she got out of the hospital. We then
started visiting, first together and then separate. Somehow I ended up coming
on Sunday afternoons, “family day”, when she said she felt the most alone.
Rita’s older brother had passed away 3 years earlier and
over Christmas break, her housekeeper of 23 years became too ill to work and
her only other brother died. Rita’s husband had died several years back and her
step children lived in Australia. She had 4 nieces/nephews that lived 4 hours
away but otherwise she had no family, she was missing her siblings and was
depressed and lonely. We started doing lunch on Sundays and ended up talking about
everything. The day she started smoking in front of me, I knew we had crossed a
threshold. We just clicked. We talked about family and our pasts, our successes
and our failures, relationships, God, fear, hopes, etc. We started working on
her financial issues, going through all her misc. “stuff” to prepare for moving
to a smaller place that would save money but also allow for her dogs. Did I
tell you she was a HUGE animal lover?
She had 2 dogs (Fritz and Stormy), fed the neighborhood birds (mainly
pigeons) and even left a piece of dog food out for the ants. She never killed
ants but would sweep them out of the house. LOL! We even discussed the possibility
of moving in together, something she said she didn’t ever think she would get
along well enough with anyone to even think to ask that. I never thought I
would find someone I might even considering doing that with myself, especially
one who wasn’t a missionary and wasn’t American. But as I said before, God had
blossomed an amazing and deep friendship in a short amount of time.
Rita kept calling me her “angel” because with all the work
transitions and the lack of family to care for, I had TIME. I told Rita that I
wasn’t her angel but she was my “answer to prayer”. I had prayed for a friend. Not to slight any
of my married missionary friends, but I needed someone who I could spend time
with without worrying I was taking them away from their family time or commitments.
Rita was someone I could go deep with on any subject or just laugh with and be
silly. Someone I could be “cheeky” with but also brutally honest. Someone I could sit on the bed with and watch
TV (criminal shows) and talk about “stuff” serious or not so serious. We had a
friendship that where we could be vulnerable enough to ask for help and
gracious enough to share our appreciation. She was someone in the end I felt
honored, not burdened to spend 12 hours/day by her side in the hospital advocating
for her needs.
Rita’s leg surgery from September had not taken and she
actually walked on a broken leg for almost 6 months before they went in and put
in a clamp in March. Rita was strong, active and determined. She did her
therapy exercises religiously. She had the most gorgeous legs even at 70 that
even I was jealous. And she was so flexible she could bend fully at the waist
and pick up something on the ground. I moved in with her for a few days when
she was released from the hospital just to make sure she was okay. We changed
her dressing (35cm) daily and it was healing nicely. The doctor actually had
stopped putting the dressing on after her 10 day post-surgery office visit. Then,
what was evidently an infection in the bone, rose to the incision and a week
after that office visit we went back to the doctor and she was immediately
admitted back to the hospital. One thing and then another stacked against her
and she never came back home.
A couple of weeks before she died, Rita had lost motor
control of her arms and legs. She was restless and couldn’t sit still for more
than 5 minutes at a time. She was sleep deprived and unsettled. She had said
that whenever I was around, she felt peace. We had had discussions about Jesus
before. She had been raised in the church, christened and confirmed. I told her
that it wasn’t the actions as much as the personal relationship with Christ.
The peace she felt was Jesus through me. That particular morning I asked her if
she had ever asked Jesus to be the Lord of her life. She said no but said it
was something she wanted to do. I told her I would pray and she could repeat
after me and if she disagreed or was confused about anything to just stop and
we would discuss it. We prayed. We declared also that Satan had no power or
place in that hospital room and in Jesus name had not authority to torment her.
No giant smothering of peace seem to pour down at that moment but as I look
back over those last two weeks, a slow release of fear and a more peaceful
spirit emerged. A few days before she died, I told her that I loved her, I
would miss her terribly but if Jesus, who was that presence of a complete
peace, came and said come, that it was okay. After that though, Rita got her
fight back. We knew the odds were not in her favor but I prayed and she fought.
She started eating again and making progress with respiratory therapy. The
doctor had written her off but Rita didn’t give up. The night she died, the
nurse said she woke up and chatted with her and ate a lot of her pureed food
and ice chips. In the early hours of the morning her lungs and heart started
giving out. She went quickly and I feel with peace. The days preceding she
seemed not to have anxiety or fear. I am grateful she didn’t have to suffer
longer but I miss her deeply.
Her funeral was today. It was good to get to share the
stories. How when she thought she was going to go to Johannesburg by ambulance
she got all her make-up out and had to have a friend put it on before “going
out”. Rita always wore bright red nail polish (“nail varnish” here) and had
make up on and her gold jewelry when she went out. We even got permission to get them done in the hospital (except one finger had to be clear).
In her honor today I had my nails done (not bright red though) and wore make-up to the funeral. Rita loved wearing high heels (hated being
in flats when she was recovering) and stylish sundresses. She loved to eat
watermelon and lemon meringue pie. She hated liver and butternut and never
drank alcohol. She loved animals to a fault. She had a HUGE heart and gave away
her inheritance to those less fortunate. Rita was Radiant, Independent,
Tender
hearted and an Animal lover! I am blessed by having known her. Although I
still have to work through God taking her so quickly, I am amazed that He knew
that an older, feisty, totally opposite Afrikaans lady was just the answer to
prayer that I needed. God is amazing! And if He was able to bring this depth of
love into my life over such a short period of time, I’m sure He can handle the
rest of my needs that lie ahead.
Love and hugs Rita! Looking forward to laughing with you for
eternity!
