Gone Away

Some years back, during my radio days, I got to know a retired BBC Radio manager who lived with his wife in a thatched cottage in rural Suffolk.  Frank was in his eighties when we met, and his  Irish wife Maureen was one of those women who could have been almost any age.

They were both strong people, both opinionated, and I liked them both very much for quite different reasons.  Frank died some years ago now, and we were lucky to see him a couple of months before his death on one of his "good" days.  He had not lost any of his wit or sense of irony, and we have always been glad we made the effort.

Not long after Frank died, Maureen went into a "care home," and we lost contact...partly because it was Frank that drove the relationship and partly because it was hard to figure out how to get in touch with her, except by mail.

So every year thereafter, I sent a Christmas card along with a note.  I never heard anything back, but I never had any expectation that I would.

Until this year.

In early March, my Christmas card was returned to me, and on it was a sticker with a variety of explanations next to little boxes, one of which was "ticked," as our British colleagues would say.

It read, "Addressee Has Gone Away."  Not died, not departed, not moved house, not on vacation, not forwarding order expired, just "gone away."  I feared the worst and wondered how to find out what really had happened to Maureen.

In an old address book, I found the name and address of one of Frank and Maureen's closest friends in their village, and via the internet, I found his telephone number, so I rang him up.  He very kindly remembered who I was and explained that Maureen had died last May, that he was seeing to her estate, and that the rumpled old cottage in which she and Frank had lived had not yet been sold - it would require a lot of renovation, but they had loved it just the way it was.

I was saddened by the news and moved to reconsider my obviously quite unsatisfactory attempts to keep in touch with friends and acquaintances who may have, for whatever reasons, meandered into an orbit different from my own.  

Once upon a time, we took pleasure in each other's company, and while circumstances may have changed, whether in proximity, interest, or commonality of purpose or belief, when we reach a certain age, we must make special efforts to keep our networks knitted together for as long as we can.

It's another tactic to keep us here just a bit longer....and the effort requires no large carbon footprint or great expenditure of money.  Just a bit of thought and a sense of kindness.

I'd better get with it and improve my performance in this department of living.