(no subject)
After the week of driving all over Florida in search of a wedding location and the emotional stress that comes with trying to make everyone happy, I was ready for a quiet weekend. Granted, I had a lot of freelance work to catch up on (and still do), but I figured a balance between work and relaxation could be met easily enough.
So on Friday, I went to sleep assuming my forecasted weekend would play out as I saw it: waking early on Saturday, walking Johnnie, puttering in the overgrown garden patch out front, and then swinging by the bridal shop to order my gown.
Instead, the phone rang at 12:34 - just after I had dozed off.
"Jennifer?"
"Yes."
"It's Peter?"
"Peter?"
"Yes, Peter Golley."
"Oh, hi. What's up?" (As my mind is racing to figure out why he's calling so late.)
"My mom died."
I met Ruth and Frank Golley my freshman year of college. As the circle of families I babysat for grew, they remained central figures the entire four years. They were my surrogate family here in Atlanta, and their home was my safe place. When my credit cards got out of control, the Golleys paid me more generously than they should. They were one of two families that made sure I always had access to decent washing machines. They even attended my graduation.
When I left Atlanta for NYC, Ruth gave me her NYC sister's contact info in case I ever needed anything. And when I finally moved back to Atlanta, they had me housesit (aka - made sure the boys didn't burn down the house) when they went out of town.
As the years passed, our roles began to shift. Ruth helped me find my house (she was diagnosed with cancer the following month), and her oldest son housesat for me. And somehow I have become the adult, that Ruth was for me, for her boys.
It's weird, but I can't imagine the world without her. She and Frank were my role models for so long. They travelled, had great parties, and were very successful in their careers, and they had the kind of relationship I hoped to one day find.
Her memorial service was yesterday, and I can't thank C enough for going with me. I told him I thought it would probably be 30 minutes, but that stretched into a long hour and a half. I have never seen so many people packed into a church for a memorial service. The church was full, including the balconies, to where there were people standing in the back. I guess that's a real testament to how fabulous she was and how many people she (and Frank) touched.
Needless to say, I didn't relax or get any work done this weekend. In fact, I feel more beat up than I did before the weekend began.
Ruth, you are, and will continue to be, greatly missed.
Her obituary.
So on Friday, I went to sleep assuming my forecasted weekend would play out as I saw it: waking early on Saturday, walking Johnnie, puttering in the overgrown garden patch out front, and then swinging by the bridal shop to order my gown.
Instead, the phone rang at 12:34 - just after I had dozed off.
"Jennifer?"
"Yes."
"It's Peter?"
"Peter?"
"Yes, Peter Golley."
"Oh, hi. What's up?" (As my mind is racing to figure out why he's calling so late.)
"My mom died."
I met Ruth and Frank Golley my freshman year of college. As the circle of families I babysat for grew, they remained central figures the entire four years. They were my surrogate family here in Atlanta, and their home was my safe place. When my credit cards got out of control, the Golleys paid me more generously than they should. They were one of two families that made sure I always had access to decent washing machines. They even attended my graduation.
When I left Atlanta for NYC, Ruth gave me her NYC sister's contact info in case I ever needed anything. And when I finally moved back to Atlanta, they had me housesit (aka - made sure the boys didn't burn down the house) when they went out of town.
As the years passed, our roles began to shift. Ruth helped me find my house (she was diagnosed with cancer the following month), and her oldest son housesat for me. And somehow I have become the adult, that Ruth was for me, for her boys.
It's weird, but I can't imagine the world without her. She and Frank were my role models for so long. They travelled, had great parties, and were very successful in their careers, and they had the kind of relationship I hoped to one day find.
Her memorial service was yesterday, and I can't thank C enough for going with me. I told him I thought it would probably be 30 minutes, but that stretched into a long hour and a half. I have never seen so many people packed into a church for a memorial service. The church was full, including the balconies, to where there were people standing in the back. I guess that's a real testament to how fabulous she was and how many people she (and Frank) touched.
Needless to say, I didn't relax or get any work done this weekend. In fact, I feel more beat up than I did before the weekend began.
Ruth, you are, and will continue to be, greatly missed.
Her obituary.