My dear friend, Kay Dixon, died on Saturday, March 27, 2010 around 12:30 pm, a half hour after the conclusion of her 92nd birthday. This post is in humble homage to an irreplaceable soul, companion and guide.
Red Cross Kay is dying. Not just Kay Dixon. They both are dying.
They are both leaving this life. It is all so unnecessary. From my perspective, the health system failed her miserably . . . two months ago, she was out shopping at L.L. Bean, getting her hair coiffed, and entertaining her lunch dates. Quintessential Kay. But that is another story, for we are where we are and “it is what it is” in this moment.
I always thought Red Cross Kay was timeless and would live forever. We’ve got her encapsulated in a book telling her tales, shining in dozens of photos carefully stored for over 60 years. In fact, Kay cared for her Red Cross self with an intensity and pervasive longing for “that” Kay. Sometimes I think Kay thought she could never live up to that person, and I can’t really say. I know the Kays of her 20s and 90s and mot much of the Kay in between.
I always thought Red Cross Kay would be with me, but I can feel her slipping away as my friend slips away into the ending twilight of her long life. I am trying to grasp at her in my mind and heart, but she does not exist without the life energy and twinkle of Kay Dixon. So I am grieving two friends and one tremendous life.