Farewell to Lou

The feisty Lou that we all loved and admired passed away today at the young age of 59. She'd been in the hospital for a few days, suffering with many complications, including tumors and a bad infection. I understand that she fought until the very end, which does not surprise any of us. Lou was fearless, except for needles, and that fear might have prevented her from getting the help she needed much earlier.

I had the privilege of growing up with Lou and playing with her when I'd spend summers with my grandparents. It was not unusual for us to get into trouble. Once, we aggravated my grandparents so bad that they threatened to put me in the cellar, and sent Lou home. She cried all the way home because she feared that I was locked in a cellar with snakes and spiders. When we connected again in later years, I assured her I had never gone to the cellar. I came close, though.

A roadside park separated Lou's house from my grandparents' home/grocery/and gas station. She was my Dad's cousin, but only three months older than me so we became fast friends. Lou was born with Charcoal Marie Tooth, a debilitating neuropathy that causes weakness and atrophy in the hands and legs. When I met Lou, she was still able to walk using braces and we often met halfway in the roadside park. I was so young and unfamiliar with her affliction that I thought if she'd just stand up and put one foot in front of the other, that she could walk as well as anyone. She told me a year ago that my grandfather came to her house every day to fit her into her braces and she called him a saint, and a perfect human being that she loved so much. They spent a lot of precious time together.

Lou and I lost touch after our childhood and found each other again a few short years ago. We picked up where we left off, and laughed over childhood antics and caught up on each other's life. I learned that she'd lost her precious daughter, Patricia, to pneumonia and Lou was currently raising her grandson, Jonathon. She reminded me of so many things I'd forgotten, and shared her rich knowledge of the family through the years. She was possibly the backbone of the family, keeping us all together.

Lou did an online newsletter to keep us all abreast of the latest happenings within our growing family. Her computer was her world. She could go anywhere, do anything, as long as she was connected to the internet. But being bound to a wheelchair did not keep Lou from experiencing life. She wheeled all over Hot Springs, much as we do in our cars. This is another example of her fearlessness. She was out and about so much that she became as much of Hot Springs as the bath houses and the National Park. Everyone knew this tough little lady who wouldn't let a minor thing like CMT keep her confined to four walls.

It was this whirlwind in a wheelchair that did all the "foot" work for our family reunion over a year ago. She planned the location and took care of all the details. Her hard work paid off and she had the time of her life. I remember her waiting by the hotel's parking garage for me to arrive. I jumped from the car the moment I saw her and was greeted with a big smile. She was appropriately honored for pulling us all together for a weekend to remember.

I'm certainly no authority on Lou or her life, but I know how she touched my own life. I have laughed so hard with her. I will miss that. I will also miss the inspiration she has been to me and many who knew her. She found so much to live for amid her disease and losses. When life handed her scraps, she made a quilt. This is how I saw Lou and how I will remember her. She was strength personified.

Lou will be put to rest between her sweet daughter and her cousin, George, whom she loved so much. Gone much too soon, but loved so much. Goodbye, Lou, until we meet again.