Learning to accept death and loss help us to live a better life
- col-lee-elliot-aging-graciously
- March 12, 2025
- 746
I lost two important people in my life in the past couple of weeks, my brother-in-law in California and a dear friend here. My brother-in-law Bill’s death was expected. He was 94 and had been in ill health. My friend Rex Huffman’s was a total shock.
When I moved to Dover 21 years ago, I was already a bad retiree. I still had a need to work, so I applied to write for the Times Reporter and was fortunate enough to be hired. It was a much smaller paper than the Sacramento Bee, but it covered a lot of local news and used many feature stories, which were my forte. It was a good paper.
I first met Rex there and soon began writing features for his arts section. He was a wonderful editor, his pages covering everything from theater and music to 4-H, farm and all outdoors. I have many huge binders filled with clips from the work he assigned me.
Kathy Vaughn, my first editor at the TR, knew how badly I wanted to pursue my other greatest interest, theater. Despite the fact I had been directing for 40 years, the local theater rule was you had to work as an assistant for an already-established director before you could direct yourself. She bugged Rex until he took me on as his assistant, a position we have passed back and forth ever since.
It was fun to work together. Rex had nicknames for each of his friends and sage comments to make them feel as if they were important to him. I ended up choosing my puppy Willow because her original birth name was LeeLee, Rex’s name for me.
Rex was special to many people. He specialized in “going to lunch,” an activity that included many friends, each of whom had his or her particular restaurant, chosen by Rex, where anywhere from an hour to four would be spent discussing. He was a good listener while he picked your brain, and he always insisted on paying, even on his own birthday.
I believe our special bond was we both felt so strongly about the ethics of theater and writing, keeping the rules that had always worked for us. He had an amazing memory and could dredge up any actor in any show in his lifetime. I will miss working and talking with him — and lunch. I know at last he is at peace, together with his beloved Karen and their dachshunds. Rest now, Rex. You will never be forgotten.
At my age all this has driven me into vulnerability jitters. Despite the fact I have a will and trust, it had not been changed since the death of my second son, so off to the lawyer I went, and then began a long process of labeling, contemplating and choosing how I want to help my survivors have an easier time of it when it is my time to go.
I’ve labeled and explained, worked on my obituary and memorial service, chosen things to go to certain people, and am writing it all down. It makes me sad because there is still so much I want to do and realize I may never get it done. Still, because I fully plan to live to be at least 100, I will have time to get over it and can put those worries behind me and do what I want to do.
A helpful aid popped up on the internet. It is called a NOK BOX. In it you can keep everything labeled and organized. It might be a bit over-organized, but it has been good for consolidating. I am almost finished with that work and intend to spend the summer wrapped in music.
My hammered dulcimer awaits my learning to handle all those strings, and the ukulele itches to be played. It is hard to do, but learning to accept death and loss helps us live a better life while we have it.
So thank you Rex and Bill for giving me joy and understanding during your lifetimes. I’ll catch up with you one of these days.