Julia's Last Puzzle

 

                When my parents moved to Swiss Village last year, they met their new neighbor, Julia. She was 100 years old and probably kept a busier schedule than I do.

                Julia still lived in her own apartment, did her own laundry, quilted regularly, sang in the choir, exercised 30 minutes a day, and put together puzzles more often than anyone I’ve ever seen in my life.

                “Amazing woman,” my parents said, upon meeting her.

                And for the last year, we’ve heard that phrase over and over. “Julia finished a quilt. She’s 100. Amazing woman.”

                When Julia worked on her puzzles, she sat at a little table in a cove at the end of the hallway near her apartment. Everybody just knew that was Julia’s puzzle table, and it was always open for her to fashion pictures from tiny pieces. Sometimes I’d stop to talk with her on my way to or from visiting Mom and Dad. I’d wave at her in the dining room.

                She had the cutest little smile and would always wave back. Amazing woman.

                Earlier this year, Julia turned 101. She did not slow down. She quilted and sang and worked on her puzzles. She walked to the dining room for meals and smiled at everyone.

                Earlier this week, Julia passed away. My parents hadn’t even known she was sick, though they had noticed she hadn’t been to the puzzle table or dining room for a couple of days. They were so sad to hear of her passing, but they held firm to what they’ve always known: she’s an amazing woman.

                Yesterday I went to visit Mom and Dad, and I walked by Julia’s puzzle table. There it sat. The last puzzle.

                I’m sure she finished it within the last week. Also within the last week, she went to choir practice, worked on her quilt and kept exercising, though I hear she did lower her time to 20 minutes a day. Because even at 101 and not feeling well, that Julia was an amazing woman, living life to the fullest.

                There was a little sticky note beside the puzzle asking people to leave it for her family. Yes! They should get to keep that last puzzle. But before they took it, I snapped a picture. Just a little memory of Julia to keep in my scrapbook. Just a little tangible reminder to live to the fullest every day I have.