I still have all four of my grandparents, and consider myself a blessed gal for it. I do love them.
So the other day as I was pulling out of my friend’s driveway, calling my husband back and hearing his distressed voice tell me his boss’s wife had passed suddenly was, well, a shock to my senses.
Yes, she was 83. Our time here on earth is uncertain, I know. Her mental health was questionable the last few years, forgetting often, but she still lived with her husband of 60+ years on the spectacular 6,500 acre ground he purchased from his father long, long ago.
This couple have been like grandparents to my husband, ever since he began working for them over 12 years ago. Country Man is a farmer/rancher, but his duties have been many. In his time there so far, he has: spent countless hours in the field, fixed fences, worked cattle, chased cattle, changed their light bulbs, given regular army hair cuts to his boss, picked up groceries and prescriptions, and carried a dying woman to her car, where she was driven to the hospital but did not arrive in time.
The boss is going to miss his best friend. That’s how he said it at the service, as he placed the decorative “Happiness is Being Married to Your Best Friend” pillow into her casket.
As for me, I will miss the conversation of a fellow farm wife with a sweet smile, a town girl brought to the country who quickly learned how to cook and feed numerous hired men during the busy season. She may have told me that story a few times.
A woman who made sure I had a Betty Crocker cookbook after I first married (where I discovered a great apple pie recipe)…
A woman with a thousand stories in her eyes and many experiences in her hands.
A woman who, with that smile and those hands and love for birds, reminded me that life on the farm isn’t so bad after all.