It’s heartbreaking getting the call that one of my oldest friends is very sick. I scrambled to try and see him, but sadly, two days later he passed away.

My friend, Mike and I had grown apart over the years. Our lives took different paths, but I never stopped thinking about him. He was a great guy. We talked fewer and fewer over time and now he was gone.

I heard that his parents retired and moved away from the city. When Mike got sick, they wanted him to be closer to them and the funeral would be several hours drive to their new town.

As soon as I got the address, I immediate recognized the tiny town. It was a place I had visited many times as a young kid, it’s were my paternal grandmother lives. I would literally be driving right passed her home.

(My parents had a very messy divorce when I was a kid. Not only did my Dad leave us, I haven’t had contact with his family in years.)

The entire drive down to the funeral, I kept contemplating, should I stop by her house? It’s been years since I’ve seen her. Would she even recognize me? I pushed it out of my mind and focused on Mike.
Once I stepped foot in that town, time moved at warp-speed. The funeral was suddenly over. Mike was cremated so there wasn’t any burial service. It was just…finished. He was really gone! His life was over. I felt numb, like everything was off kilter.

Back on the road, heading home, I passed a familiar spot and stopped. My hands trembled as I turned the steering wheel. I knew where I was going, even if my brain wasn’t sure, yet. One life was over. There hadn’t been any last words, no goodbye, no farewell with him. I guess I was being nostalgic, but I spotted the high fence surrounding the property and turned in.

The big iron gates were wide open, so I drove up the long gravel driveway. Everything was just as I remembered. The grounds were perfectly manicured. The trees and shrubs trimmed. The gray stone house still looked icy and cold even though the outside temperatures soared.

I parked my truck and stared at the big old house. The tall windows were all open. Shear fabric billowed in the breeze. It took several minutes to settle my nerves and walk to door. I rang the bell. It was a familiar chime and I waited…

It felt like an eternity standing at that doorway. I had forgotten about the woodwork. It was amazing, large flowers carved into the solid wood door. I heard a small voice inside say, “Hello? Who’s there?”
Fear struck me! What do I say? What if she doesn’t recognize me? Worse yet, what if she doesn’t even know who the hell I am?

My voice trembled as I blurted out my full name (first-middle-last.) I know it’s silly. We share the same last name, but I was worried that she would think I was a lunatic off the street and yell for me to go away or she would call the police, but instead, She opened the door and let me inside.

Her white hair was pulled to the side with a clip. Her silver rimmed glasses made her eyes look so incredibly bright blue. I stared at her. It was strange…this woman and her entire family turned their back on us years ago and now I was standing there, face to face with her. She looked the same as I remembered, only much older.

She told me sit in the living room before quickly disappearing into the kitchen. I figured she was going to get drinks (preferably with alcohol in it) and possible collect herself from the initial shock at finding me at her door. She was old. The last thing I wanted to do was give her a heart attack. I walked around and looked at the artwork in her house. There was a stack of mail with several unopened colorful envelopes on the tables. They had my interest, but I didn’t touch anything.

“It’s my birthday,” she spoke from behind me.

I jumped and turned so fast I nearly fell on the floor. She held two glasses of lemonade and handed me one while nodding towards the stack of cards. “My birthday is the day after tomorrow,” she said. “I’ll be 94 years old.”

It suddenly hit me, I didn’t even know her birthday. I didn’t know how old she was. I didn’t know anything about this woman…her maiden name? Does she have siblings? How long she was married? Her favorite food? Favorite color…nothing!!!

I had stopped by her home on a childish whim. Now, this could be my only chance to get to know her. “I was hoping we could talk.”

To my surprise, she smiled and pointed to the chairs and told me, “I’d like that. What do you want to know?”