Again I drove out from the new LAPD building's flourescent lit garage after a night's work onto fresh daylight. That morning the sun was shining down the road with a fan of sun rays, rays like those in children drawings, too perfect and glorious to believe. I was instantly exalted by the Lord's presence!! Hallelujah, my heart sang. A few days later I would forget this wonderful feeling as I wallowed in new thorns in my otherwise blessed life. I had lost sleep worrying and dreading rough days ahead, so I set out this bright summer afternoon with half a mind toward no particular destination.
My friend Ann, who chose career when the mode was to marry, retired from the City at age 80+, had finally given up her Echo Park apartment eight years ago to move into an assisted living home in Alhambra, CA. I drove passed Edward Cineplex, Starbucks, and Tony Romas on Main Street and pulled into Etherton. The block-size compound had houses, apartment units, a sales hut, a chapel, and a resident restaurant accessible outside and inside of the main building. Paths were lined with street lamps, benches, and landscaping; all aptly maintained. This idyllic mini-suburbia caters to old people, who were fortunate enough to finally slow down in the last phase of their marathon lives.
The entrance auto-opened as I stepped inside the main building. The reception area resembled a hotel registration desk for a few seconds, and then I would always be lost in a labrynth of hospital-like rooms and nurse stations. This afternoon almost every room had the tv on; a number of them were black and white movies, a couple were sports in color. Through the sedated hallways, a non-conformist was heard groaning quite continuously and disruptively to no apparent effect. Some rooms looked cozily furnished and decorated; one had cool license plates on the wall. There were also darken rooms with drawn drapery. I followed piano music and singing to find a room full of wheelchaired residents. All were singing a church song in female pitch; the three males were outnumbered. I spotted Ann; I could even screen out her voice among all others.
Ann had not left the confines of the main building since she moved in, but on one visit I wheeled her outside for real air. Ann had stopped remembering my name three visits ago, although she had been couth or slick enough to play along. On this visit I waited for her recognition before greeting her. She didn't, but there she was participating in the group and looking more content than when she could remember. God is merciful. She may even have forgotten that she was a proud loner. I approached and called her name. She was pleasantly gracious as usual, smart enough to guess that I must had known her well. In parting I told her that I missed her. We paused and looked at each other, and then she said, "Tell the gang I said hello." I saw a tear glistening in her one good eye; she probably saw me welled up too. I knew this would be the last time I visit.
EPILOGUE:
Ann passed away on April 24, 2016.
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