A Tribute to My Friend

A Tribute to My Friend: Norma Jean Martin

February 11, 2009

I didn’t get to say goodbye. I stayed away because on some level I knew you were coming home. I wanted to remember you when you were happy. Your house has been dark for weeks. I would look over and wish your door was open. It was always open for me. Now I’ll live with the things I wish I would have told you. The dead always remind us too late of the things we should never forget.

I won’t forget. I won’t fail to honor your memory and what you taught me. You were a quiet friend in my life but you changed it in a powerful way. The first time I came to see you, I was so nervous. It had been too long coming. I spent too much time worrying about what you would think of me. You welcomed me as though we were old friends and I feel we were. In fact, I think of you as always living in the blue house across the street. Getting to know you has been a treasured delight.

At first, I came because I felt you needed me. Over time I realized that it was I who needed your friendship. Your life has been such an example in your indomitable spirit. You persevered through hardship and suffering. It isn’t that you suffered that was the lesson for me; it’s that you suffered well. Without giving up. Without giving in. I remember you and your stories when I think I cannot fight.

Your legacy is apparent in the people who love you. Your family who surrounded you and miss you. And me. I sought the quiet visits at your kitchen table as a place of rest. I thought I let you down because I couldn’t spend the time with you that I wanted to. You loved me anyway. I realize now how much it means to me that in spite of that you watched out for me. I think of you as a guardian angel. I felt known and cared about because you called to check on me. I would see your door open and know that you were there. The last couple of years I have felt isolated. Knowing that you were my friend made that a little bit more bearable.

You were kind to my children. Because my own grandmother was uncomfortable around small children I worried about bringing them to your home. You eased my mind and you gave them candy and smiles and encouragement. Your time with Ayla is a blessing I will be forever grateful for. She will carry that with her, your spirit and your kindness, throughout her life. In spite of your physical difficulties, you made ripples in the pond of my life and the lives of many others. I hope that I can be that kind of person. I hope that people remember me the way I will remember you.

I will miss you. I will miss your dry cynicism. I will miss our talks. And I hope, my friend, that when we meet again, you will make time for a cup of tea. And share with me what you learned since our parting.

Until we meet again.

Mimi Rowntree