Jill, a Final Goodbye
New friends are great, but it can take thirty or forty years to make an “old” friend. I met one of my own oldest friends, Jill A., about fifty years ago. We lived together from 1972 until 1975.
During her last several years Jill lived in a small home in a beautiful forest in Brookings, Oregon, just north of the California border. The winters were mild, the summers warm, and on the 4th of July she could see the fireworks on the beach a few miles to the South.
I’m still working part time, and plan to continue indefinitely. But there have been days when I’ve imagined what my life would be like if was retired and living in the thick woods of Oregon. I used to own a condo at Lake Tahoe. One day my brother David called me from the dock where he was fishing. I thought at the time, “What’s wrong with this picture?” There I was, at my desk working, and David was at my condo fishing. Hmmm.
Jill was diagnosed with cancer almost a year ago, though she did outlive her doctor’s prediction of “six months.”
We talked by phone every week or two. She always seemed to be in good spirits, even toward the end when her pain had become nearly unbearable. When Daveen and I visited her several months ago, Jill was a caring and attentive hostess.
In our final conversation Jill told me that she would say “hello” to my brother for me and also to my father, both of whom she loved.
I’ll always remember our driving trip to Eugene, Oregon to see the Olympic Track and Field Trials in 1972. She was driving my Porsche up Highway 5. At one point, she sprang back from the steering wheel.
Jill hadn’t realized she’d been driving 105 miles an hour. Afterwards, she tried to hold it down to 90.
I guess we live our lives in both the fast lane and the slow, until it’s time for that final pit stop.
Jill, I hope you know how much I appreciate our friendship, and all the time we spent together.
I will always love you.
Alan
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