My Friend Pearl

 Hi everyone,

I'm afraid I have some sad news to report. Pearl, the lady I was caregiving for the past eleven and a half years, passed away yesterday at the age of 97. It happened all of a sudden, and even though at that age it can't be unexpected, on Saturday night she was fine but woke up not feeling well on Sunday morning and by afternoon she was gone. Her daughter was there with me, and we were blessed beyond measure to be with Pearl, holding her hands when she died.

Blessed also was that the last thing we did together was watch an online church service, broadcast from Pearl's home state of Minnesota, and ministered by Pearl's niece, the pastor of that church. It was beautiful, in that we watched the entire 45 minute service, and within two minutes of it's ending, Pearl closed her eyes and was gone, with the faint trace of a smile on her lips. In that respect it could not have been more beautiful, and she suffered no pain or agony.

Needless to say, though, I am devastated. When you caregive for an elderly person, you become close in all kinds of ways because you are helping the person do a lot of things they can't do by themself. Pearl was 85 when I started working for her way back in the Spring of 2010. Even though she was just coming off a hip replacement operation (the reason I was initially hired), she was still pretty robust and ambulatory, and remained that way for several years. We did a ton of stuff together, along with her dog (and my great pal) Kobi, and until the end of 2014 I was only with her part time, from 4 to 6 hours a day. But around Thanksgiving of that year, it was clear she needed more help, and I began to stay the night, going home to my apartment only for short breaks in the afternoon and evening. I also joined the choir that Winter, at Reseda Methodist Church, and sat right next to Pearl in the tenor section, so she could remain on stage too. We rarely missed a Sunday, and had the highest attendance in the five-plus years before Covid.

Pearl had dementia, fortunately the slow-progressing kind, but it did get worse, and after Covid hit, we decided she needed 24 hour care. I was more or less round-the-clock with her by that point, though I had a substitute come and spell me for an afternoon break. By then, Pearl's daughter had retired, and was coming down from her house in Northern California for two weeks at a time, so she could be with her Mom also, so since Covid I was only with Pearl 17 days a month, but for 21 hours a day when I was on.

Truth be told, I could've done without having the two weeks off. If it were any other job, I would've welcomed the free time, but this was never a "job" to me. I would've gladly done it every day. I loved taking care of Pearl, and over the years she became my best friend. We did everything together, and made sure to enjoy all the moments of our days, and to appreciate all the Little Things, like stopping to see our doggie friends behind the fences of the various houses on our walks, or counting the cats prowling Newcastle Street. I called this The Summer of Green Parrots because we would see a flock of them in and around the trees at the local elementary school, squawking and making a racket. We always looked forward to seeing the Green Parrots every evening at twilight, sometimes with a gorgeously colored sunset in the background. And that's just one of the Little Things we enjoyed every day. If I were to list them all, this would be the longest blog I ever wrote.

It's so hard to lose somebody you love, even when they live to be 97, and maybe especially then, because they start to seem eternal. Other than her cognitive impairment, Pearl had been in reasonably good health all these years, and remained so right up until a few hours before her passing. On my work break this past week, I was already gearing up for our next round of walks, shows, music, meals and everything else we did every day, during what I assumed would be a fun and pleasant 17 days together into mid-October.

Now it isn't to be. I'm numb right now, because again, Pearl was not only my best friend but the person I was with, almost all the time, for the past dozen years. I've known her since I was born (our families were neighbors), and believe it or not, Pearl was also my Godmother, which means she presented me for my baptism.

I have no idea what I'm gonna do next, and right now I don't wanna know (and don't even wanna think about it), because I was so attuned to taking care of Pearl. So that's what I'll do, I'll stay with her spiritually, and I know she'll do the same for me. We really "get" each other.

Therefore, "super good work, Pearl"! She'll know what I mean. That, and "what a day"! "Can you believe the sky tonight"? "Get ready for the green parrots"!

"My Goodness, Pearl...........can you even believe it"?

Pearl could. She was a wonderful lady. I loved her dearly and will miss her more than words can say.

If you love someone, please tell them, and don't forget to take in all the Little Things together, every day.

I love you, Pearl. Thanks for being my friend. I'll see you again one day, without a doubt. ////

God bless you all and thanks for reading. Hang in there and I'll be back soon with some movies and maybe just some musings as I process this change in my life.

Of course, I send you Tons and Tons of Love, as always.  xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)