I love my neighborhood.
We have a neighborhood Facebook page and for a long time one of our neighbors,
Lisa, was the monitor and really the "mom" of our page. Responding to
questions like, “I need an honest plumber.” “Hey, does anybody know who owns
the white corvette that is currently speeding down Superior Ave?” She made sure
that we didn’t fall into negative political discourse, that humor was
encouraged in posts and good deeds acknowledged. In addition, Lisa also helped
create our neighborhood’s little “mailbox library” of donated books, getting
our neighbors to build and paint them artistically and managing the books
availability. She spruced up our main road bridge and helped guide our
neighborhood watch and went to all our neighborhood events. I never talked to
her on the phone, and I only met her once face to face, we connected on the
page a handful of times but I felt she was an incredible neighbor, the one that
kept us sane, happy and connected. Every life has an impact. Sadly, a few weeks ago she passed away at
52. The neighborhood poured out its support, setting up a go fund me page so we
could dedicate a bench and bridge in our park to her and to have a ceremony in
the park to honor her. I was so touched that she was so loved with messages on
the Facebook page from by well over a 1,000 people in our hood. Her
everyday actions, her constant support affected us all so positively. Thank the
people in your life that like Lisa make a difference. Thank them today. This is
an incredible positive part of Lisa’s story. She made a significant difference
to so many lives.
Days later we got even sadder news, posted by her family who felt Lisa would
want others to know. Lisa committed suicide. We were dumbstruck. We learned
that she had horrible fatigue and her health plan doctors couldn’t diagnose its
source. We had no idea she was sick. So there is a sad health care story, the
internet is not enough story to this but, and there is another story that calls
out, the unheard pain story. She offered support for all of us. She helped guide
us to all the resources for our problems, and I know I feel that I was not
there for her. I am ashamed I was not a better neighbor. This has haunted me. I
think about her family, her mom and sister and I think about all of us here in
the neighborhood that will miss her.
Now on our Facebook page, there are details of counselors and support groups.
The book club that had been closed to new members has opened up so all are
welcome. There is a meditation group starting, we supported a neighbor who lost
her job. But, there are still voices out there. Voices that are calling and
need to be heard. It’s something to think about. I hate feeling powerless. Some of you know I
have recently started writing and recording songs. It is a very healing art. It brings me such bliss! So
I wrote a song in Lisa’s memory. The lyrics are not about Lisa her family or
about her pain. It’s a gentle reminder to listen. I am listening.
Here are the lyrics to the song.
Ache Down the Line
By Patti Wood
Momma calls its three am,
she’s fallen out of bed again,
Nothings broken her bones are fine, but I can hear her loneliness ache down the
line.
I pack a bag get on the road, driving through the morning cold.
In her chair when I call again, I can hear her need and fear ache down the
line.
God it’s hard, to make
do, trying our best struggling through,
We want someone to hear our crying, hear our loneness ache down the line.
Call my sister when it
gets light. Fill her in on Mommas fright.
Baby’s cry’s intertwine and I can hear their distress ache down the line.
Husband’s left for some blonde, Savings lost, to his bail bond.
Power bill won’t get paid in time, I can hear her pain ache down the line.
Get to Mommas make her
tea, wrap some ice round her bruised knee.
Turn on TV to unwind, ease our loneliness that aches down the line.
We look at old photographs, call back sis try to make her laugh.
Momma asleep call that friend of mine, let my loneliness ache down the line.
God it’s hard, to make
do, trying our best struggling through,
We want someone to hear our crying, hear our loneness ache down the line
Driving home to talk
radio, people stories ‘bout love that goes.
He up and left, she drank too much wine and I can hear their loneliness ache
down the line.
Voices rise throughout the night, hoping to be recognized.
But in the dark we are resigned to let our loneliness ache down the line.
In the dark we are
resigned Crying, hear us crying
In the dark we are resigned Crying, hear us Crying
In the dark we are resigned Crying, hear us crying
In the dark we are
resigned Crying, hear us crying
In the dark we are resigned Crying, hear us crying
In the dark we are resigned Crying, hear us crying
Hear us crying.
Patti Wood, MA - The Body Language Expert. For more body language insights go to her website at
www.PattiWood.net. Check out Patti's website for her new book "SNAP, Making the Most of First Impressions, Body Language and Charisma" at
www.snapfirstimpressions.com.
