I missed out

Saturday morning I happened to locate Penny's blog, which I linked to in my last post. I spent the better part of that morning sobbing, and this afternoon I returned to it and lost my composure again. Part of my sadness is selfish -- I feel like I missed out by not knowing Penny.

I am reminded of Anne Morrow Lindbergh's death, which prompted me to start reading her journals. I felt sad that I hadn't known her (as a reader) during her lifetime, and at the same time I felt somewhat guilty about that fact. WHY hadn't I discovered her sooner? The same is true here.

From my days of working at Hoole long after Joyce had retired, where I met her as a guest speaker and occasional visitor, I felt sad that I hadn't gotten to work for her. Long before I started dating Tom I felt that way, and I have always enjoyed my brief encounters with her. Then I learned that she had mentioned to him that he and I might pair well together, about a month before we figured it out ourselves. (I knew I liked her for a reason!)

We even talked to Joyce about getting ordained online to marry us. She was, of course, willing to do it -- excited at the prospect, no less! And then there was the wedding gift from her and the girls. I actually don't recall what the gift was, although I have a record of it; what was important was the way it was wrapped. She had tied it in tulle with sprigs of fresh lavender tucked in.

Why is this significant? Because we had baskets of lavender for our guests to scoop and shower us with as we left the reception. She hadn't known that my wedding had a lavender theme. But she knew. Joyce has that way.

When I made sachets from the leftover lavender, I tucked the Joyce lavender into one I kept for myself.

I can't stop thinking about her now. And the girls, of course, but mostly Penny's mama. We have joked that she's Tom's "other mother," since she hired him right out of college and mothered him a bit along the way. His own mother lived across the state, and in 2004 she passed away. He says Penny was kind of like the big sister he didn't know very well. He heard Joyce talk about her, and later, when the girls worked at Hoole, he knew her vicariously through them.

It's strange to be going to a memorial service for someone whose "bookends" you know the way we know Katie, Mary-Keeley, and Joyce. We missed out on the filling. And the more I read, the more I realize what the world is going to miss with this loss.

--Jennifer
So very sad.

sad, sad day

Yesterday the world lost a light, a woman I am very sorry wasn't one of my best friends. (I'd have had to take a number, though; seems lots of folks felt the same way.)

Penny vs. Cancer, Little Red Hen

Penny McAllister lost her battle with leukemia yesterday. A valiant three-month fight, which ended a few weeks before her 57th birthday. I only met Penny once. I worked with her daughter Katie at the time, and her mother, Joyce, had been the curator of special collections at the University (and Tom's boss) for years and years. Katie is very much like Joyce, and when I walked in and saw Penny sitting in the office, I said something about how she fit right into the space between her mother and her daughter. (They are three of a kind.) She said, "Yes, I'm the missing link!"

This was before I knew her younger daughter, Mary-Keeley. Both girls worked at special collections while they were undergrads, and I worked there as a grad student. I ended up working with MK longer and knowing her better than I did Katie. But my heart aches for both of them right now, and for Joyce. For everyone who knew and loved her, which by all appearances was a huge circle of folks.

--Jennifer
No shiny things today.