Our Dear Friend, Balisha.

...and our sweet blog sister Balisha/Patricia is gone.   Simply Balisha--a nickname her husband Joe had given her, when first they met, because Balisha rhymed with Patricia.  She found such joy in the simple things.  Her beautiful gardens--who will tend them now?  Her poetry--she was so good with words.  Her plants waiting for spring in the sunny window in her basement.  Her older friend Elizabeth that she used to visit.  

Sitting quietly in her chair, on the back of their property, by the gardens she had planted there in the woods line.  She was a healthy as can be and then---BOOM!  It happens that way, it seems.  We are going along, feeling good, enjoying life and the next day, the dreadful diagnosis.

...and with Ovarian cancer, by the time the diagnosis is given, it is way to late to cure it.

Perhaps because my best friend ever died of this same wretched disease, I was stunned when I first read Balisha's post about her diagnosis.  I felt that cold knot in my stomach.  I knew--and I was swept up in such sadness.  Real sadness and grief for this beautiful woman I had never met.  

This blog-o-sphere thing we have going on is amazing and wonderful--at least to me.  I become quite close in feeling to many of the women whose blogs I read.  So often, when they are sick or sad, I think, "If I could, I would get in my car and drive to their home."  It is possible to do that, but impossible for me.  Wouldn't it be wonderful--arrive at their home, knock on the door and when they opened it just say, "Hi.  I'm Judy!"

We could sit and talk, they drinking their cup of tea, me sipping on my Diet Pepsi.  Then a few hours later, it would be time for me to leave and I'd hug them so tight and whisper, "I love you" and come on back home.

I wish I had the power of Captain Kirk's transporter!!!

Now Balisha is gone.  The space she took up in the field of atoms that surrounded her, will fill in.  The earth will not stop spinning, life will not stop.  It doesn't seem right to me.  Everything should just completely stop--at least for a few minutes--to honor this lovely woman.

I know when I tend my gardens or plant and watch grow the Purple Hyacinth seeds she sent me, I will think of her.  As long as there is one person left in this world who remembers her, she will exist--in our minds at least.