Florence's Final Journey22

and chose to blame you for her own lack of development. A common
reaction to change but still a tough pill to swallow, isn't it? I remember
crawling into bed alone. That was the hardest thing for me. You get used
to it but not totally. Do you have thoughts about dying alone?”
“Yeah, you are right about everything and the dying alone deal is a
real, repeating nightmare,” Gabby said after a long pause.
“Tell me about it. I have outlived all my relatives, my husbands, my
own daughter and most of my friends. A long life equals loneliness.
That's a formula that I learned to accept. I hear about people who are
celebrating turning 90th or a 100 th birthdays and it makes me quake in
fear. I don't relish the thought.”
“You are still one sharp cookie, for 80 or any age, Florence. How's
your health?”
“Nope, old people talking about their health is fucking boring and I
ain't apologizing for my French. What's that mean anyway when people
say, “Excuse my French?”
“That is a weird phrase, isn't it?” Gabby laughed. Here's a classic for
you, Florence, an old singer named Dorothy Moore. The song, Misty
Blue began.
“ Man, you're good with the music. Did you ever play?”
“Nope, but if I had it to do over again, I would learn the piano. Music
is so soothing and comforting. Writing, my art form, is haunting and
disturbing much of the time. I'll get these ideas and they stay with me
until I release them by writing a story or some mawkish free verse.”
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