In Loving Memory

I just found out that the world lost one of its most lovely people yesterday, Mrs. Frieda Haas.

I've known Frieda since I was about four. Some of my most fond childhood summer memories involve Frieda, her house, or her garden. Frieda would laugh and laugh at me and my friends and our antics; she had as much energy as any of us did (and that is saying quite a bit!). When I was six or seven, she was in her basement doing some chore, and she laughed as I swung from her pipes like a monkey. Whenever I would visit her as an adult, she would always say, "Ooh, I probably shouldn't have let you do that, you swinging from the pipes!" and she would laugh great, whole-body laughs. The neighbor girls and I loved to play house in a small screened in shed near her garden as she worked her magic amongst the flowers and vegetables, and at the end of the day she would share her wares with us to bring home to our mothers.

Frieda seemed to hold an unchanging quality about her; she was always happy, always energetic, always glad to see us, always old (especially to our young eyes), never seeming to change appearance-wise. She would talk lovingly of her past and her husband, dead some twenty years before we were twinkles in our parent's eyes.

When I hit Jr. High and High School I was much too wrapped up in my own life and activities and friends to think much about Frieda. But she was always there, and I know now that she was always praying for me and my friends, always thanking God for us.

When I went to tell her that I was getting married at the ripe old age of twenty, she cried tears of joy. She loved Tiger from the get-go (some people took some warming-up ;-p) and was so proud of us. Every time she saw me she would tell me she loved me, tell me she thanked God for me and for bringing me a wonderful husband. I am so thankful for her prayers.

The one time I went to my hometown since Lily's birth, I brought Lily to meet her. Frieda was lost for words. She just wept tears of joy and kept saying, "I love you. I love you." I am so glad she met my daughter.

Frieda was a loving, caring, compassionate woman, someone I hope to emulate someday. She died in her 90s, living in the same home that she and her husband bought as a young couple and raised their children in, still gardening, still visiting friends, still laughing. I sent out picture cards with our new address recently. I don't know if Frieda saw hers or not, but I do know that it would have made her smile and made her eyes mist up happy tears. She truly was a living saint.

I'll miss you, Frieda.