love.... is all that matters
My dear friend Molly Walton drew her last breath on December 14, 2019. A long-awaited day after her diagnosis in early 2013 of terminal breast cancer. Ours was a roller coaster of a ride relationship with her hoarding lifestyle and my restless nomadic search for a home to settle down. Molly lost contact and the affection of a teenage daughter in divorce many years before and this trauma led to an empty heart and home. She proceeded to fill every square inch of it for the following years with all she touched and collected. The empty house, like her heart, was being filled up and each item cherished. My story was the loss of my home of 15 years in Vermont in the housing crisis of 2009. Ten years and seven moves later, with two homeless periods, while waiting for housing to open up , I was always in transition.
She gave her love to me with time during phone calls, any hour and place. She gave me a sense of continuity....of being loved by someone no matter where I lived....a wonderful gift. I absorbed any items I could of her "collectibles" to give her some peace around the slow liquidation process being imposed by her family. Most items I would not be able to use but would pass on and even throw away. One of my moves took me to another state and I would come to visit and need to stay overnight. I was the only person I knew of that Molly let stay at her place or would want to. She would clear a place for me to walk, to an area of boxes covering a stool,so I could sit down. Then a chair and ottoman were uncovered, so I could make a bed for the night in the living room. It was filled halfway to the ceiling at times with boxes she was going through. As an artist, I kept encouraging her to make art with me. She kept dreaming of art projects she wanted to finish. In all the years I knew her, we spent only two hours painting together.
Cancer for Molly was a blessing. I know, how can this be? Blessings are love in action. It brought her daughter back into her life. Molly became full of courage, of heart, to contact her and bring the news and reach out.. to love again. Time was short now. In the seven years that followed two grandchildren were born. First a daughter, next to a son. As the daughter turned five she was identical to Molly at the same age. Molly's life was fulfilled as it should be. Seeing herself live on in the image of a beautiful granddaughter.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. Mathew 5:4
My last visit with her was in the home caring for her in her last days. I was in turmoil over the failure on my part to have a residence for her to come to in these last two weeks. This had been our plan. I had recently lost a house that was suitable and moved to a small apartment in another town. As a trained hospice caregiver I wanted to "walk her home". When I arrived after a four-hour drive, she was conscious but not aware it was me in the room. I was broken-hearted by the lack of care she was receiving. The room was cold, windows open, Furniture pushed up to her bed so she would not fall out. I could only reach her feet and sit in the doorway I prayed for us both to be at peace and asked that Jesus take her hand and walk her home for me. Then the only way I can explain or express it is a feeling of peace and then LOVE filled the room. The next thing that happened was my photo, Molly kept on the window sill flew across the room towards her bed. There was only what Molly and I were to each other. A blessing.
