I got a text yesterday morning from Jeff’s sister and learned that their Aunt Peggy had passed away. It had been quite a while since I’d seen or talked to Peggy and I knew she was getting on in years, but it was still a blow to find out. I wanted to take some time and process the news, but work consumed my day and then continued through the evening with a last minute project. I went to bed and still hadn’t really taken time to grieve.
So, tonight, I’ve decided to write down my memories of Peggy and try and sort out the confused mass of feelings that always pile on when I lose someone.
I met Peggy at a family function with Jeff not long after he and I started dating. She was famously known for having bad knees and for telling very long and detailed stories to anyone that would listen. To the point where her family members would sometimes set down the phone and just let her talk – checking in every so often to see if she was done. If it became clear they weren’t paying attention, she would tell the story again.
Jeff had her over for dinner once and she cornered me while he cooked. Instead of tuning her out, I engaged in the conversation and contributed – and she was delighted to have a fresh audience. On another occasion she tried to repeat a story to me again, but I countered early on by recalling some of the details – proving that I had been listening. She was pleasantly taken aback and the rest of her family was amazed at my skill of, apparently, just paying attention.
Peggy had us over to her house sometimes since she lived near Jeff or we would meet up for dinner. She was very matter of fact about accepting Jeff and I and I think she doted on us a bit.
When her husband Cliff passed away, she tried to be the strong matriarch, but it was clear she was hurting and missing him. Jeff and I went over to her house with Cliff’s ashes after the service – Jeff was a funeral director – and Peggy offered us some tea on her sun porch while Jeff was dividing the ashes, some to be buried and some to be spread. We declined, but when I saw how rough this was on her, I took her up on the offer since that took us into the kitchen. I stood so that she had to face away from the window to talk to me and we chatted while Jeff did his work outside.
At one point she stopped and looked me right in the eye and said, “I know what you are doing,” and I knew it meant a lot to her.
I smiled, shrugged, and told her it was good tea so she could keep up her brave face since I knew that was important to her.
When we left that day, she thanked us both for being there and we got fierce hugs. I think it was one of the best things I’ve ever done for someone.
Kindness isn’t a thing to be repaid, but years later she did anyway.
When Jeff passed, I was at the calling hours with his family – alternately forcing myself to keep it together and by turns completely falling apart.
One of Jeff’s friends came up to me and suggested, not very subtly, that it was my fault that he died alone. When they saw the horror on my face they tried to back-pedal, but the damage was done.
Peggy took me aside – as I had done for her when she needed it – and gave me a hug, and told me that they were completely wrong and none of this was my fault. She wasn’t part of my family, but for the moment she was.
With her kind reassurance, I got through that terrible day.
I visited her a few times after that, but we were both busy with our own lives and drifted apart. As it happens.
I hope she understood and remembered what she had done for me. Funerals are about the dead, but they are for the living. I think we both understood that and it was part of our unconventional friendship.
So, the grand dame and matriarch Elizabeth “Peggy” Queen is gone. I hope she has a good audience now – she has a lot of stories to tell.
She was kind and accepting – and I miss her.