About ten years ago, The Wife met this woman named Bonnie. She worked at a B&B just a block from our home and also was employed at a Bruegger’s Bagels.
She was looking to make some extra money and wanted to know if The Wife knew anyone looking for someone to do some house cleaning. Since we had had a new baby and were still in that always-tired state, my bride engaged her to come to our house once every week or two. Eventually, we all became friends.
Four or five years ago, he had a bout with, I believe, emphysema, and we visited her in the hospital. The good result of that event was that she quit smoking.
Bonnie called at least once a week, and we probably saw her at least twice a month, going out to eat at Friendly’s restaurant or some diner. She was a classic Luddite, and never did get to really do much with the computer.
She had a massive coronary “event” on January 13, and died the next day at the age of 68.
Bonnie was the first person The Daughter really knew who died. She had met my mother, but that was from a series of infrequent visits, many of which she no longer remembers. But she related to Bonnie quite well, appreciating how she would say “Good morning, Carol, Roger and Lydia” when she left messages on our phone.
In fact, the night before Bonnie’s death, The Daughter was crying, had trouble going to sleep, and woke up about 4 a.m.
That makes THREE people I knew personally who had died in the first TWO WEEKS of 2015.
My first experience with someone’s death was my grandpa (my mom’s dad). It should be easier over the years, but it doesn’t seem to get any better.