Rose Bellish RIP

I got the news this past weekend, one of my good good friends, Joyce, her mother passed away.

Just returning from one funeral and into another was not what I wanted just before my daughters 27th birthday. She called and I explained that we are in a crunch to watch our finances, and I would not be able to travel down. I also have my AWP conference coming in March.

We talked about loss, she talked about the hole you have with a parent and a child. Hearing her brought back memories. Joyce also said, which I hear from time to time, she now knew what I was going through twelve years ago. I understood, no comparison, just a big f'ing gaping hole. We cried together.

Joyce and I went to Ireland together. We hung out and laughed when all the friends around us were falling digging into their own pits of unhappiness. We attended college together for a short stint, the kids were very young, my marriage was falling apart, and money was sparse while she made good dough working int the medical field. But as a true friend should, she supported me and I supported her.

Ireland was one of the highlights of my traveling career. Yes, I wish there was money in it. Cadbury's under the seat, while driving on the wrong side of the road, and no fear in where we would go for three weeks in a somewhat foreign land. Crazy right, who goes away for that long. A mom stressed out from a terminally ill daughter and a girl who takes care of her mom.

Rose Bellish was 85 when she died Friday, February 8th. Now she was a real peach. A true woman of wisdom. The relationship she had with her children and grandchildren was one of admiration. I am reminded of Farmlady on this. Joyce and I would be getting ready for a night out on the town, Rose would be talking it up to the both of us, no advice, just talking about this and that. When she asked you about the family and what was going on, she genuinely wanted to know.

We always forgot to tell her not to tell Marci we were going out, a jealousy thing, and she always seemed to call just after we left. But on the way out the door I can still here it like it was yesterday...Rose still chatting it up in the other room (she was hard of hearing) and we were out the garage door heading to the green Camero, so we could look good in a smooth ride; hair up to the ceiling (80's hair), and Joyce would call out 'Later Ma!'; it always made me laugh. She was not neglected. Joyce let Rose live with her for many reasons. Roommates of sort. Both holding their own.

I modeled my own relationship with my after those two. Rose helped me in some way learn how to let the little things go, and love him for who he is. Thanks Rose, you will be missed by so many who love you the way I do. 'Later Rose'.

(above pic is property of Yebyul Oh. My son's current girlfriend. It was created for a poem about my daughter.)