“You Remind Me of Someone”
She was a beautiful lady. Her hair was as white as the purest snow. Her eyes were blue, as clear as the sky on a cloudless October day. Most of the time, her eyes twinkled and grinned mischievously at you. Her cheeks had two lovely dimples that seemed to always be present. On her lips a wonderful smile had taken up permanent residence. She always wore the most beautiful dresses, often accented by the color red. In her hand she always carried a cloth handkerchief, decorated by stitched roses (Red, of course!). Arthritis had done a job on her fingers, evidenced by the “knotty knuckles” and crooked fingers on each hand. The walking cane she carried was the one previously carried by her mother and her mother’s mother before. Though somewhat bowed by the toll of passing years, she was still a “fine figure of a woman”. Her voice was “high pitched” and musical in tone. She had lots of family members, friends, and folks from the church that visited her often in the nursing facility she called “home”. It was obvious, she knew the true meaning of love. Whenever she spoke of her departed spouse (Herb) there was no doubt she revered his memory and loved the part he had added to her life.
Whenever I visited the nursing home she was there to greet me. With a great big smile and open arms inviting a hug she would greet me. I looked forward to seeing her. In particular, the person in charge of activities would gather the residents together for listening to music in the multi-purpose space every Tuesday in the mid-afternoon. Knowing that, I would plan my visits accordingly. Why? Because I love to dance. There are few things in life that I enjoy more than a Waltz or a Fox Trot. By visiting during the music time I knew I would get to “cut a rug” with some of the ladies who lived in the facility. And, she was my favorite dancing partner in the whole place! Soon after greeting her during those visits, a good piece of dancing music would begin to play and away we would go. Round and around. A dip and a bow. A twist and a turn. Back and forth. Up and down. It was magical. Her lovely face would be covered in a smile. In my arms she was as light as a feather.
After several months of visiting with her, dancing together, she said she had something to tell me. The music quieted and she beckoned me to draw near. In an almost girlish whisper she said, “You remind me of someone.” Before I could asked her more about her statement the music picked up again and the moment passed. We did not get to finish the conversation that day. However, I came back to the facility in a few weeks, on another day of the week besides a Tuesday at music time. I came into the building, starting to go down a hallway, I heard her call my name. I turned in order to see her. She waved for me to come to her. I did. When I drew near she said, as before, “You remind me of someone.” Having the time and opportunity, I said “Belvie, who do I remind you of?” She looked me “square in the eyes” and replied, “My second husband.” Well, I had to say, “Why, Belvie, you’ve only had one husband.” She batted her eyes at me and said, “Up until now.” I was flattered. Bemused. Dum struck. Finally, I regrouped and hugged her, telling he how honored I felt. We then shared a good laugh together.
As time does, it passed. It was several weeks before I was back in the facility. I had thought of Belvie often during that time. Looking forward to seeing her, I entered the building one Tuesday afternoon just as the music was beginning. I went into the activity space, scanning the lovely faces gathered there in hopes of spotting her. She was not there. Off to the side, I saw one of the staff members waving to gain my attention. Seeing her, she motioned for me to join her in the hallway. When I reached her, she said, “Belvie wants to see you.” As she led me down the corridor she told me that Belvie had declined within the past few days and had been moved to the “solace room” as it appeared she would be passing soon. Entering the room, Belvie turned to look at me. Though withered and drawn, she put on her best smile and beckoned me to draw near. I drew close beside her. She said in a voice, barely above a whisper, “They told me you were here. I wanted to see you. I wanted to tell you again ‘you remind me of someone.’” She paused and then said, “You remind me of my Herb.”
She wore a beautiful red dress to her own funeral. It was a comforting service. Fitting for such a lovely lady. It was well attended, mainly by those associated by the nursing home. As I was leaving, one of her family members came to me. He said Belvie asked me to give this to you. It was one of her handkerchiefs. Neatly folded inside was a note, written by Belvie. It said, “You remind me of someone.”
You just never know what folks think of you.