(Hearts by Angie Traverse)
Today is the 21st anniversary of the death of my friend Angie.
I’m thinking today about what is lost when a person dies at a younger-than-expected age. Angie was 54.
During one of her remissions, Angie and her spouse bought a second home on a lake that was special to their family. Angie told me she imagined grandchildren visiting there some day. I imagined visiting, perhaps with grandchildren of my own.
At the time, our children were tweens and teens.
Now, I have granddaughters, who are far away in London, UK.
I know that Angie’s children have children of their own, although I’m not sure how many or what their ages are. I imagine that they go visit the lake house sometimes. I imagine they tell stories about Angie so that her grandchildren have some inkling about who and how she was, even though she died long before they were born.
I imagine that there are still touches of Angie’s artistic and decorating skills on display.
I imagine that Angie’s spirit is still alive in her children.
Somehow.
Joanne Corey 