My neighbor Ann lost her dad this year, she wrote a lovely tribute to him about all the things she missed doing with him this spring. As I read it, I thought of how much I miss my friend, Rose Mary.
Every time I hear Lady Gaga and Bradley Cooper sing the song In The Shallow on the radio, I think of our last movie together, A Star is Born. We were under a cozy blanket in the recliners at the theater. As Jack sang to his wife “You will be the last love of my life” Rose Mary tearfully looked at me and said that her Don would be the last love of her life. I cry, and I miss my friend.
Rose Mary and I often shopped together. Garden Centers, All Things Good, and the Copper Pony were our favorites. Usually followed by lunch at Café Jules. The laughing, the stories, the gossip, the hugs, and the anger that cancer was about to rob her of the rest of her life were all things we shared. I miss my friend.
Rose Mary loved the North Shore as much as I did. She and her friends often rented a house there at least once a year. Dinner at the Angry Trout, pizza at Sven and Ole’s and shopping downtown were their favorite activities. The last trip she brought me back a blueberry cookbook she bought for me at Ben Franklin. She wrote a sweet inscription asking me to think of her as I made blueberry muffins for my family. I miss my friend.
Last weekend we had our first Field to Feast planning meeting. This will be our fourth event. Rose Mary was there from the beginning, involved in the planning of every detail. This year on August 18 when 320 people sit down to break bread together, I will look at the gathering of our fantastic community, and I will miss my friend.
“Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.”
~ Mary Elizabeth Frye
Taste of Home columnist Sandy (Anderson) Holthaus lives on a farm in South Haven, MN with her husband, Michael, and their children Zoe, Jack and Ben. Her heart remains on the North Shore where she grew up with her parents, Art and LaVonne Anderson of Schroeder. She enjoys writing about her childhood and mixes memories with delicious helpings of home-style recipes. You can email her your thoughts and messages at sandyholthaus1010@gmail.com. She would love to hear from you.
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