Tall Tales from Kansas

This is the picture I snapped at the very first meeting of the Huff+1 lunch club. The date stamp on the photo is May 16, 2014. It had been a few months since mom died and I recall sending Nancy a message to pass on to her mom… about how I would be looking for someone to step in with guidance when needed, as I know found myself motherless. Marti responded immediately telling me that she was contacting an attorney to “draw up adoption papers”.

And thus began 12 years of lunches and one of the most meaningful friendships of my life. At the outset I could not have imagined just how it would go. Initially we met sporadically when I happened to be off and was able to join them. Once we started up though, and especially when I started working part time, we transitioned to the monthly meet up. Occasionally we missed a month, we were easy that way. Conversation flowed, opinions were given, stories were told, Marti provided wisdom and perspective in a way that was smart, funny, and appreciated. Having the grounding viewpoint of someone who has lived a long and meaningful life was a gift. One that was recognized in the moment, instead of only in hindsight. Which again, seems rare.

My very dear friend Marti Huff, pictured above in all her glory with her back up singers Nancy and Jennifer, departed the earthly realm on July 1st at the age of 102. She was in her home, in her bed, with her cat, being cared for by her marvelous family with the support of hospice and extra caregivers. Below is the photo of our last lunch together in May. At that time Marti told me that she had a chronic nagging cough which she had investigated and “it could mean my days are numbered”. She said this in a hopeful way. If there was ever anyone who had their business wrapped up, and was ready to go, it was Marti. Don’t get me wrong, she loved life and lived fully – we had plans for lunch on July 2nd until she took a turn and steered her boat towards the far shore. Her body was letting her down. For the last year, every SINGLE time we said goodbye after lunch she said “If this is the last time we see each other it has been great” and we would hug and tell each other how much we enjoyed the other’s company. I can’t say why it worked so well, I think we each appreciated what the other brought to the table and were not afraid to say it.

Marti gave the people in her life the amazing gift of preparing them for her death. She was not afraid to talk about it. She was not afraid to die. She was ready to go. She normalized the experience of her inevitable death by having a sense of humor about it, and again, by TALKING about it. So many people think talking about dying is morbid and try to shut it down if anyone starts to mention it. It’s almost as if by not talking you are going to hold it at bay. You won’t.

Thank you Marti, for the gift of the example of a life well lived. Nancy, Jennifer, and I will do our best to carry on the tradition without your physical presence. We will set a place for you at the table though. Always.