Portrait of Jeanne
The regularity of Jeanne visiting on Wednesdays has formed a bond that goes beyond routine. She is my friend and confides in me, and I in her. Yes we play Scrabble. She brings food she has lovingly prepared. Where most people who I’ve been friends with have disappeared since this disease has progressed (including her sister Ruth who promised to be my friend until the end and ended our friendship by throwing me out of her apartment!), Jeanne is not that kind of a person. She practices acceptance. Kindness. She is a woman of her word. A woman of valor. Principled. I admire her honesty. The way she knows herself. Her generosity. Thoughtfulness. She’s rare in a world where people forget about others who need them. She still has friends from her youth. One is not doing well, and is in the throws of early dementia. She…
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