---

"Loss of Neighbor
a Reminder About Life"

by LIZ THOMPSON

Liz Thompson (left)
poses with her friend Barb Brown,
who recently passed away.

Nosy neighbors are highly underrated. One of my best neighbors ever recently succumbed to a 10-year battle with cancer.

We met on an unseasonably warm, November day in 2005 when we had just moved to Grove City. I was visiting Louise next door, as she took a break from raking leaves, and here came a woman walking across the street with an amusing smile saying, "Hi, I'm your nosy, bald-headed neighbor, Barb Brown!" Louise chuckled and the three of us jabbered and enjoyed the autumn air.

I invited Barb into our empty home as our furniture was more than ten days from being delivered. She, my husband and I talked and laughed as she gave us some history on our home. She liked the fact the only chair we owned was my walker seat. We all liked her immediately including our dogs, Jack and Snert.

About one week later, when the Jackson Township squad helped me after I fell down the basement stairs, this "nosy" neighbor came over. Barb asked how she could help and I asked her to call Bob, to leave the house unlocked and check on the dogs later that day. She seemed happy to lend a hand. It was later I learned she was a retired nurse and wound specialist. Her concern for me was driven by her experience and the fact she knew my husband was at work. I sure don't call that nosy, do you?

A crock-pot of soup and homemade bread showed up in her hands a day or so after my spill. That's when I learned she had cancer. Right then, I knew when the cancer won, I would miss her. Thank God I was able to enjoy her friendship for another year and 5 months. I tried to make every moment count while enjoying our time together.

On April 15, her funeral was performed beautifully at Schoedinger-Norris in Grove City. The room was filled with quilts and flowers. Quilts Barb had made for people she cared about. Her first quilt was made for her husband, Ned, with embroidered antique cars, the place mats quilted for Sally and Tom, the fun quilt made for neighbor Ted thanking him for taking care of her cats, flowers and words endearing for each person who received one of her quilts. She never kept one for herself.

In the last few weeks of her life, Barb asked her friend Monica, a fellow nurse and quilter, to complete one unfinished quilt for her. "She told me exactly where to find the pieces, thread and everything. She cared that much," Monica shared at the funeral.

Barb had asked her son, Tim, to post a sign over the quilts, "Barb did not want these things displayed to show off her talents but instead to demonstrate her love and devotion for the people she cared about."

The beauty of her quilts and the love stitched in them was comforting. Her life was celebrated through every design she placed in each quilt. It reminded me of a song I wrote called "Made with Love." In part:

The tag upon the worn, old quilt,
said it was made with love.
The sweater that my grandma knit,
I know she made with love.
The needles with the thread
or yarn spun the gift of love,

To keep me warm and comfortable,
when cold winds blow above.
The time it took amazed me so,
I knew they loved me so...

The other day, I glanced out the picture window, and realized Barb is no longer across the street and a lump formed in my throat. I will always miss her but hope never to forget the lessons her life taught me.

Every moment on earth is a blessing and we need to share it with others using our gifts. Maybe a smile, listening ear, homemade goodies, a wave across the street, a phone call, a card or any one of hundreds of ideas. All for one reason -- to let others know you care as Barb did for years as a wife, mother, friend and neighbor.

She patched more than wounds. Barb helped patch lives and bring people together. Stories of how Barb's life was interwoven with others carried on after the funeral when we gathered at Ned and Barb's home. Every person had at least one story to share of how Barb cared for them.

My daughter sent me a book two days before Barb died called, Life as a Vapor by John Piper. The timing was perfect because the title and the first reading of it, reminded me again that our lives are short.

Barb taught me that life is a vapor. One moment here, the next gone. Try not to let the winds of time whisk life away while harboring regrets. 

Printed in Suburban News Publications
5-16-07

Liz Thompson is a freelance writer and former SNP reporter
who lives in Grove City with her husband, Bob.

All materials published in MSWorld™ are protected by copyright laws.