02.27.09
Farewell dear friend…
I’m sure you recall that it was your son who introduced us near the end of my freshman year of high school. That was forty years ago and I cannot recall when or how it was that we became friends. It must have been instant. Back then, we had a mutual love for sewing, shopping, sales, singing, and your son. You had a talent for taking a white canvas and transforming layered acrylic paint into grassy fields of red poppies, daisies, and butterflies. As soon as you finished a painting, one of your children already had dibs on it or you had decided which one should have it. I admired your many talents and the delight you received from sharing yourself with others.
Most of what I learned from you was simply by observation:
You were a savvy, serious shopper. The day after New Year’s in a city forty-five miles away, the department stores opened their doors and you were outside waiting. Your bedroom closet was devoted to storing purchased bargains – ready for any gift-related emergency. You had everything from delicate floral scented drawer liners to fine engraved stationery. Your kids were never too old for surprises and on holidays such as Valentine’s or Easter might wake-up to find a hand-painted ceramic box or brightly colored paper mache eggs filled with specialty candies.
Family was God’s gift to you and the nucleus of your existence. The atmosphere in your home could have been subject for a Norman Rockwell painting. I was privileged to be an “extra” on several Saturday evenings for one of your delicious dinners of roast beef, gravy, potatoes, and green beans. Your widowed mother lived just around the corner from “the pink lady’s house” and when your brother Ray and his wife Louise lived in town, they were included in this traditional time together. You served your family in style wearing fitted dresses and high-heeled shoes, seven days a week. I’m not sure you ever slipped those high-heels off even to do laundry!
Another painting opportunity for Rockwell would have been Christmas Eve in your mother’s living room with everyone singing carols from well-worn songbooks. Everyone that is, except you who was content to listen to the harmonious voices of your musically gifted children. Though your melodious soprano voice was robbed by thyroid disease leaving you with a limited raspy voice your joy could not be taken.
It seemed you had everything: a loving, close-knit family, a comfortable home, friends and hobbies. Your daughters had graduated from a prestigious university, married fine young men, and were established into their professional careers. Your son was attending the same university when suddenly and unexpectedly – widowed. You were only fifty-five but you went on living. Your joy could not be taken.
Eventually all of your children were married and sharing their talents within their communities because of the extraordinary roots and wings you endowed. Precious grandchildren arrived and your circle of family expanded. Your life was abundantly blessed and tragedy struck again. Gone was your firstborn: your lovely Cyndi. Oh how your heart must have ached from the hemorrhage. I never heard you question God, “Why?” though surely you must have wondered. Instead, you went on living. You remembered your daughter’s sweet soul and inner beauty and honored her memory through her children and husband. (Thank you for sharing his informative Christmas letters.) Your joy could not be taken.
Yes, Jean I learned immensely from you. I will miss your graceful charm. I will still think of you when I see red poppies or a room filled with various hues of red furnishings. Most of all I will remember your finest lesson, “The Joy of the Lord is your strength.” Farewell dear friend, until we meet again.
A Tribute to Jean Smith
The beauty of a flower is something to behold,
Its delicate petals are tempting to hold
I gaze in awe at how flawless it can be
Such vibrant colors; it still amazes me
Perfectly formed by God’s own hand
Scattered for our pleasure all across the land
But a flower’s graceful beauty will soon fade away
And replaced by a bloom to enjoy another day.
You are like a flower, in a much better way
Your loveliness, Jean, will never fade away
God made you too, in perfect form you see
Unlike a flower though, for all eternity
For years, I observed in awe at your essence
Admired your delicate qualities, graceful presence
Though your life on earth has faded away
Your legacy lives on forever to stay.
You have left your imprint on my tender heart
Compassion and kindness are qualities you impart
Passed down to your children who strive to imitate
The values you taught them and how to relate
They’ve passed them down to children of their own
And to their children’s children your attributes shown
So you see how it is, that you will bloom forever
Nothing in this world or death, can your beauty sever!
I love you,
Belinda Howard Smith
February 2009
