We lost a friend today.  The halls are too quiet without the loud voice of the one who spoke for us all when she’d yell, ”Shut up!”  at the irritating cacophony of beeps and call alarms alerting, that are part of daily life in a nursing home.

Hazel was a ready source of entertainment and expressed love to anyone whom she deemed worthy.  I was a willing recipient.  We spent many an afternoon in the west wing day room, surrounded by family and friends, enjoying the banter between Sheila and Hazel, while listening to the comedic comments of Steve Harvey as he hosted Family Feud.

I would stay in her proximity even to the chagrin on my mother.  Hazel knew me as “a nice girl” that she “loved very much.” She would confide to anyone who would listen as I walked away from her that she loved me and I loved her, too. Not only did I enjoy being around Hazel, but grew to know and love her family as well.  They told me that this Hazel was quite unlike her  “old” self.  Before succumbing to Alzheimer’s disease, she was a quiet person – nothing like the incessant dancer, unpredictable talker and open expresser of love that developed.

As it is with Alzheimer’s disease, time changes things.   Hazel’s contributions began to slow and her interaction waned.  She began to have fewer “good” days and more “bad” days.   We watched her fade before our eyes.  I visited her at her bedside as her granddaughter kept vigil.  “I’ll Fly Away” was the song that flowed from my lips to her ears.  She listened to my voice as she had many times before.  By the next day, her daughter had arrived to see her off.  After considering what kind of music Hazel liked, we broke out in singing “You’re a Grand Old Flag”.  Uncanny, we both knew all the words and moved on to “God Bless America”.  Hazel’s son watched in amusement.  Hazel seemed to enjoy the attention and we enjoyed the camaraderie.

Then she was gone – but only out of sight.  She arrived at her final destination March 13^th 2014, in the morning hours, before her family was able to get there.  She slipped off while no one was looking.  A quiet exit for someone who had been so out spoken while I knew her.

Farewell dear friend.  I will miss your laugh, your smile, and the endless string of words that only you could weave.  You made life better on the west wing.

I love you, Hazel.