April 16, 2009
Her name was Isabelle, and she lived across the street from me. I would run over to her house in my fuzzy slippers, and she would be standing at the door, smiling. She loved her clothing wardrobe, and matched it all up - very important to this stylish lady. She had a soft voice, sky blue twinkling eyes and was the epitome of a sweet lady, as her photo depicts.
She would sit in her rocking chair, and I would stretch out on the paisley chaise lounge, while she talked to me about gardening. Her yard always had something in bloom. She said that many years ago, she 'planned and planted' her flowers and small trees, so there would always be something in bloom. I never forgot her wise words.
One night Isabelle had a heart attack. During the few days she was in the hospital, I visited her every afternoon and evening. I knew of the inevitable loss forthcoming and had a mix of feelings. Crazy as it seems, I painted my living room with a fervor like never before. That night I went to see her, and told her about the painting, knowing she use to paint the interior of her house in her younger days. I showed her the color swatch, her favorite color - buttery yellow. Her eyes twinkled; I knew she liked it. That was the last time I saw Isabelle alive. She passed away that evening.
Isabelle lives on in my life. Every Spring I make sure I have pansies in the garden, and by our front door for her. She died April 16, 1998, and I will always honor her.
Posted by Purple Flowers at 5:39 AM