Quilter At Rest

img_2430_stdI am listening to this song. I have been singing fragments of it during my long drives to and fro while alone in the midst of heavy traffic. There seems to be no significance to the song except in some of the words themselves; however those bits are bringing tears to my eyes.

Time itself has fragmented. Just ask Billy Pilgrim how disorientating that can be! I spoke to Yulin and she commented on the calmness of my voice. Indeed there is a tranquility at the fifth stage of DABDA. My good friend Judy knows that I sing Leonard Cohen songs like this one from McCabe & Mrs. Miller whenever my soul harmonizes with sadness.

We remember Judy as we sat at a meal. A flaming volcano. A freshly made guacamole from prepared ingredients. Even a pizza half with cheese; half without when finally they got our order right. Gail heard Judy say “I’m outta here!”; Dulce got chills.

I dropped Richard and Wes off at the BART. On my way back home I passed by the skunk works where Luis introduced me to Dulce who proclaimed with a wide smile that she was our boss. Then she laughed and we laughed too.

It was at EH International on Trimble that I first met Judy. Her weakness was the rigatoni and mine the calzone. Both from the now gone Di Ciccio on El Camino which burnt down ages ago. Judy would eat far too much and accuse me of not stopping her in time. Groaning and grinning her signature bangs flowing to and fro; knowing nothing I could say could keep her from taking one too many bites.

Judy married Rick and the wedding was fun; the marriage too short; news of Richard (a pilot she had married back when she was a stewardess) dying had both Debra and RJ in tears. Judy lost her property in Bolder Creek; moved into a small mobile home which was one of the hardest things I ever saw her do. She hid her tears from the world with that smile that invited everyone to be her friend. I was there quickly and shortly after she was nearly killed by a car slamming into the left side of her Taurus while crossing a light on first street. Not the first wreck I’d seen her have to deal with. There was that white truck in which she played Graceland for me. Judy loved line dancing. I helped her find songs to practice to. She impressed me with diamonds on the souls of her shoes.

Chopoff Consulting took friend Judy and family to Hawaii in celebration of good times. She also joined us on many other trips but I failed to help her cross the country when she moved to Boston nearly two years ago. A decision I deeply regret having to make.

News of Judy’s passing came in an email from her BFF Lynda. Fitting that it was not a call though Jay mentioned it had somehow slipped passed him, I continue to repeat no regrets in how I learned Judy was no longer here. I called Judy’s cell just to see if anyone would answer. Perhaps I left Judy a message I cannot recall. Debra told me she went peacefully. That would be fitting for an angel. Better than how Cossack screamed the last breath as evidenced by her face when my mama and I saw her at 2 AM on her death bed in the hospital. No horror movie I have seen since can compare to that image seared into my memory. Farewell. Bon voyage. Adieu. You can finally enjoy flying with your dad in a biplane. Until we meet again.

Rest peacefully dearest quilter.