Last year I did some cooking for a woman named Susan who was both housebound and bedridden. I loaned her a couple of bags of books and dvds. Then I got involved with my daughter moving in, problems with the landlords, a new job, and so on. I never made connections with her to pick them up. I tried to call her recently and the number was disconnected. Then I tried to write to her, thinking mail would be forwarded. It was returned with a notice that she had left no forwarding address. Thinking of her health, I had a sinking feeling. A search through the archives of the local paper confirmed that she died on November 14th at the age of 55.

I am just stunned. I knew she wasn't in good health, perhaps a bit poorer than my own. Certainly we both have risk factors for heart attack. (I don't know the cause of death but that seems likely.) It's just surprising when death finally does occur to someone who has chronic illness. One gets lulled into a false sense of security by the status quo. If a person has managed to live with poor health for quite awhile, one expects them to continue to do so.

I am sorry I didn't hear about this in time to attend her service.