Lucy had several tributes on display at her funeral. I am posting them over the next few days for those who could not attend.
Farewell … farewell Lucy, farewell my friend.
I intend to celebrate a life, a life that ended too soon. Lucy accomplished what God had planned. She gave me joy and showed me her kindness. I can now call on her to give me solace and ask God to send peace my way. I intend to celebrate a life, Lucy’s life. I remember when the bomb dropped, she had a heavy feeling in her stomach, and we hugged and cried together in the lactation room in the office. Then the surgery – the prognosis – not so good.
Sometimes we almost get it right. Often, quite often, I’m told that Lucy was lucky to have me as her friend. Almost right, it was the other way around. I was lucky to have her as my friend.
I met Lucy the first day I started work at Stanton Group and she was shy, quiet, and respectful. You could say that I now had a mission, to get her out of that shell. We were both early birds and I would walk by her work station and say, “Good morning, Lucy”. Since I had a mission and I am a determined person, I kept it up and soon she was turning her head towards me. One thing led to another and soon we visited every morning at work. Lucy loved to garden and grow flowers and plants. I loved growing people and she is my rose in a bed of carnations (her favorite flower).
We shared Mom stories, her Mom, my Mom. I told husband and brother stories, kid stories and grandkid stories. She told stories about her husband and brother, sister, nieces and nephews. I told her what was happening, and probably would happen in the office. She would say, “How do you (did you) know that?”
She loved being color coordinated; remember the many colored watch bands? I remember her sweet little smile and the bottom lip that she could curl when she was thinking.
I tried to be a good friend and with Lucy’s permission, I declared “Lucy cap/scarf day” at work. I brought in bags of caps in case people forgot theirs and we all wore them. Co-workers stopped to greet her and let her know we all cared. We were celebrating her life at work. She was a rose in a bed of carnations.
After I retired, Lucy and I met for lunch, brunch, dinner, or coffee whenever we could. I remember meeting for brunch right after her Mother passed away and we talked for hours. Yes, she did hold up her end of the conversation.
I dreaded the hospital visits because of what the cancer was doing to her. I also loved the visits and seeing her smile.
Celebrate, Lucy, celebrate. God has called you home. I was the lucky one, you were my friend.
Farewell, farewell Lucy… farewell my friend, farewell my rose.