Written last Sunday, November 4

As I sit at my computer tonight, the rain is softly falling on the colorful leaves that cover my yard. I hear it and it makes me melancholy. Perhaps that is also because of the phone call I had tonight from Barry's cousin, Andrea. I have not talked to her in about ten years. It was not because I didn't want to talk with her, but I had an old phone number and kept forgetting to find an updated number for her.

Andrea was a little girl when Barry was a teenager. He loved her like a little sister and she adored him. He often spent part of his summer vacation with her family. His aunt Dot adored him as well.

For many years, Barry and I drove down to Roopville, GA to attend the Alexander reunion. It was held at his Aunt Jimmy Lou's farm house. The house was not air conditioned but was shaded by huge old trees and even with all the folks there it was not too hot in August when we usually met.

Aunt Jimmy Lou lived to be over one hundred and, even when she was bedridden, we met at her house. Her devoted daughter, Joan, cooked and prepared several kinds of vegetables from the garden and all the family that lived close by brought more food and iced tea. Joan took care of her mother until she died. The next year when the second weekend in August rolled around, Joan invited everyone to her house where she hosted the reunion. After Barry died, I went to the reunion at Joan's house. It was good to talk with all those who had known him since childhood. He was very popular with his family.

I haven't been back to the reunion in a number of years. It is hard for me to drive long distances now. When I received the call from Andrea tonight, I was saddened to hear that Joan died today. She was in good health until last week when she slipped on the wet floor at the pool where she went for water exercise. She hit her head when she fell and did not recover. Joan was 91 years old. She held the reunion at her house in August and Andrea was there. Although Joan had a tough year, she was still driving, growing a garden and exercising. But now she is gone because of an accident.

Andrea and I reminisced for over an hour on the phone. We talked about her mom, Dot, who would not let Barry leave her side at the reunions. I can still hear her call his name in her southern dialect. Andrea told me all about the other family members and who had health problems and who was still doing well. I can't go to the funeral for Joan, but she will be in my thoughts all day on Tuesday as all the family gathers at her beloved church to bid her goodbye.

I am fortunate to have met a dear man who had a great family that embraced me when we married. Tonight I will think about the good times we had with the people he loved and that I came to love, also.



Barry Beall and his mother, Helen Alexander Beall, a lovely woman and great MIL.