My weekend was tempered by the sad news that my next door neighbour had passed away. I had posted about her awhile back when she was "missing". About a month ago Mr M across the street told us a "car had come and took her to hospital" but no-one had any other details.
A couple of weeks ago the owner of a fast food place knocked on our door. Apparently our neighbour supported her shop four or five times a week and had not been in. She left me a phone number to call if I learnt anything. People were concerned but attempts to find out anything from the family failed.
On Saturday a total stranger stopped us as we walked down our front path. She said she used to "play the numbers" with our neighbour and had heard she had died. That prompted me to check the death notices online and I discovered that she had passed away at the end of May.
The sad task of telling the neighbours and phoning the shop-owner fell to me. The neighbours were saddened but were also overwhelmingly annoyed with the family for not letting anyone here know what had happened. Some of these people have shared the same street with her for the 15 years that she lived here.
I felt really sad. She was a little eccentric but in a wonderful way. She told fascinating stories of growing up in the south. She had a crush on the manservant. No matter how many times the manservant told her to just stick any misdirected mail in our box she would ring the bell and have a little chat with him. She thought he was a little soft in the head because he would be outside in winter in bare feet and shorts! (I agreed with her).
I will miss her knocking on our door asking us to ring her mobile number because she had lost her phone somewhere in her house. I will miss having a little giggle in my head at some of the things she wore. I never found out the name of the jeweler she paid to make lovely items. I never heard her play her old piano or the organ in her church.
She was only 62 years old – I thought there was much more time to do all that.
She once knocked on our door to tell me that her "heart was aching" because my peonies were lying on the path. I took scissors and cut them for her to put in a vase. She brought them back to show me how they looked in her vase – she was so pleased.
I did not get to give her any peonies this year – they were flowering around the time she was dying. I wish I had known which hospital. I would've taken a bunch to her.
Farewell Sararietta - I will miss you.