A Final Salute :

Luisa Mannchen - January 26, 1922 to August 4, 2009

My last entry the day after Luisa died was pretty emotional. I appreciate and thank those who left me messages of comfort.

I have spent the past 5 days since then helping her sons go through all the things a person leaves around their home, in the closets, the dressers and throughout the cupboards. Things that at one time or the other seems important, but to us doing the sorting is hard to see why? or what? or when it could have been important. My first thought was, Oh-my-Gawd! but by the time I had washed and folded and bagged just her cloths, I had regained my respect for her. The white shirts where with the white shirts, the bright colors with bright colors, tee shirts were separate of satin shirts, winter was separate of summer and night wear of day wear. I would never be able to find anything to wear if my cloths were that organized but now I know how she could go back to her room and emerge 30 minutes later in complete makeup, all dressed up with color coordinated earrings, wrist watch and handbag. (She came to despair that she would never be able to get me out of my blue jeans and tennis shoes, with my one watch and always brown handbag that my camera fits into.)

I have met Luisa’s two sons, one almost 2 years older and one a  little less than 2 years younger than I, only a few times over the past 20 years. One lives in Florida has been in Houston maybe 5 times that I know of in those years and the younger one lives here in Houston and has been to my home with his mother 4 or five times for Thanksgiving dinners and a few other occasions, but I wouldn’t say we knew each other, we just have  mutual relationships to Luisa. But this week we have talked   and laughed and compared notes on what we each know of her life. We sat and looked through shoe box after shoe box of photos of her and her mother, and aunts and pictures of the boys as children. I finally went to her computer and began to scan in some photos. (Which you are now enjoying)

Raised by a single mother and aunt, Luisa was very modern in her thinking. She was one class short of a degree in biology from the U of H, drove at 17 and owned her own car, loved to dance and during WWII drove to Galveston to meet the soldiers on leave from Ellington AFB to “dance all night” and  finally met Howard while he was station there for a short time.

Their marriage took place over a year later, children were not for 4 and 7 more years. Knowing who she was and what she wanted. Often finding it difficult to accept less. Demanding the most from her friends, from her children, disappointed at not having any grandchildren, lover of books, and music, and lately internet searches.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

87 years of life, of loving, questioning, traveling, fighting the norm and just being true always to Luisa.

 

Loss of my friend

Right at this moment I wish I had Gordon’s or Mark’s talent for words – how do I tell you about the jumble of feelings, sadness, anger, guilt, that I am going through. Last month – just a month ago I featured Luisa on the Friday Shoot out - celebrate life today she is gone. One short month when I wasn’t looking, one month that I was doing my normal stuff: going to the gym, having parties, going to weddings, eating lunch on the veranda, walking down for a beer at DeVassa, how petty it all seems, and she is gone.

How many times in that one month did I not call, it was to late or too early, or I was tired or mad, how many times, and she is gone.

Time I spent on the internet, blogging commenting with strangers, and she was here alone. How is this possible? 3 days she spent alone here, ill and failing, how is it possible that I did not call, and she is gone.

I keep turning to tell her something, to laugh with her as I clean her home, her history …. why am I here now when she is gone? How did I miss this last month, only one month and she is gone.