It was three years ago yesterday. Covid was still extant, and Wifey was nearly 4 months post her stroke. By then, we knew she was recovering VERY well, but still wasn't able to drive, and in PT. We had a thrice weekly routine: I would drive her to the new Hilton Hotel near Baptist, which leased space for outpatient PT, leave her there, walk around the pretty Baptist Lake, and then fetch Wifey. From there, we would drive West on Kendall Drive to the Palace, to visit her Mom, and then have a later lunch or early dinner.
I don't recall with complete clarity THAT many phone calls, but I remember the one that came in as we passed SW 97 Ave -- our friend Ruby called. Wifey was speaking, but not understanding. I heard: "What? Dead? How? When? How can this be????" And then she started crying out loud.
I pulled the car into the lot of the Italian place we often visited, which back in the day was Anthony's Pizza, the place Mike would fetch the Thursday night pies for the party his Dad hosted for us while we were in law school.
We put Ruby on speaker, and got the unbelievable and terrible news: Elizabeth had been found in her room in Utah, dead. I began to cry along with Wifey. Ruby said the Utah ME was doing an autopsy, but preliminarily, it seemed it was a heart attack while she slept.
We turned around and headed home -- neither of us had the wherewithal to visit a nursing home.
Elizabeth was our healthiest friend. She was 64 but could have passed for a 40 something. She ate clean and worked out constantly. This trip was with a group of women -- led by a guide -- hiking the mountains of Utah.
Later, more information came to us, after her cremation and the scattering of ashes at Ruby's North Carolina home. The autopsy showed indeed that critical vessels were totally clogged. But wait -- she had the year before SEEN a cardiologist -- and she was a nurse practitioner in Orlando!
Dr. Eric figured out what likely happened. She had seen the doc there for a possible rhythm disturbance -- and had the day long Holter monitor. She was fine. But Eric said her doc, like many, who explore ONE problem ignore many possible others. Had the doc given her a calcium score test, he would have seen the stenosis, which must have been present.
Also, Eric surmised, the day before her final sleep, she MUST have had symptoms -- shortness of breath, maybe nausea. But knowing the stoic Elizabeth, she likely chalked it up to the high altitude -- she lived in Orlando, and though a lover of mountains, hadn't visited the really tall, Western ones in awhile.
All of this was academic. The reality was that our dear friend -- truly a sister to us, was gone. Three years later it still seems unreal.
We had been speaking, a lot, in the time before her passing. She was knocked back by Wifey's stroke, and tried to get Wifey and her friend, to exercise more during their marathon phone calls. I suggested this, and somehow the friend interpreted this as my saying she was a "fat pig." Whatever. Elizabeth's passing shows that when the Big Man calls, you must go, regardless of exercise, clean eating, etc...
I also clearly recall our final conversation, a few weeks before her trip. We were chatting on our way to another of Wifey's medical appointments, at the UM Lennar Center, and as I walked my beloved campus while awaiting Wifey, spent the time with my sister. She had sold her wedding ring from the early 80s, to a rock and roll singer, as the ring bore no sentimental value. She thought it appropriate that the proceeds would pay for the upcoming trip -- and she wanted me to make sure that in the event something went wrong with the sale, and something happened on the trip, I would make sure her sister Ruby fetched the ring from the jeweler -- lest a stranger profit!
We made plans for a visit to Miami, now that Covid seemed more manageable. She always stayed with us, as staying with her sister and brother in law caused the tensosity so common in modern families. We loved having her -- she would have a nightly glass of wine with me while I had my martini -- and I would see the healthy foods she brought with her since we rarely stocked those -- special yogurts, supplements, etc...
Wifey ordered a sign that says "Elizabeth's Garden," and we placed it at the base of a tree near our front gate -- an area Elizabeth planted a circle of bromeliads while she visited. They're long gone, but I always right the sign after the landscapers knock it over, and I see it and smile as I leave or enter our property.
I met Elizabeth in 1983, shortly after Wifey and I started dating. They were FIU classmates in the late 70s, and had a life changing experience together, in 1981. They decided to vacation in Jamaica, and while there, Bob Marley died in a Miami hospital, and so they were there for the Marley funeral. Wifey still savors the pictures of the two 20 somethings on that trip -- the very literal picture of youth on an adventure together.
Yesterday Wifey and I watched the mediocre new movie about Marley, and it triggered memories for Wifey. I've heard so many details about the trip, I feel like I was there. Wifey and I honeymooned in Jamaica, coming up on 38 years ago, and I want to visit again. If and when we do, we will toast Elizabeth.
Meanwhile a lot happens in three years. Elizabeth would be sickened to see that Donald Trump has a serious chance of becoming elected again -- she loathed him. She would love playing with our grandsons -- the oldest one was barely walking when she died, and now is an accomplished swimmer and non stop talker, in Spanish and English. The little guy wasn't even a thought back in 2021.
Life continues to happen while we make other plans -- the Lennon line Elizabeth and I both adored.
She stays with us daily -- 3 years on after her shocking death.
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