Saying Good-bye To Pat West

 

 

 

To live in hearts we leave behind
Is not to die.
~Thomas Campbell

 

 

  I was on the phone Thursday night talking to a friend in North Carolina when on a whim I happened to ask about the status of an old friend, Pat West, who we grew up with in Fayetteville. "Pat West recently died", was the reply. I was speechless for a second or two before I was able to enquire further. I learned that the funeral would be the coming Saturday at 1:00 PM. I immediately had to say good-bye on the phone so that I could think things through.

 

  Pat West was much more than someone I casually knew; she was family. She and my older sister, Joyce, were good friends and when we moved to the "White House" at the back end of Hollywood Heights Pat West just so happened to live a few houses away on the same street. Our mother had passed away many years ago and we had become accustomed to frequent moves from Fort Bragg, Fayetteville, and Spring Lake. The white house was an American style home which had at least three bedrooms, white siding, and a silver 250 gallon propane gas tank in the back yard which I was always in fear of it exploding. All of our previous homes had been brick ones, (with the exception of a trailer home we resided in while living in Spring lake).  I think I can safely speak on behalf of my siblings when I say that the thought of moving into the white house was embarrassing and humiliating. Had our family's socioeconomic status deteriorated to such a level? 

 

  My disdain was short-lived. What seemed to be a decrepit old house turned out to be a meeting place for so many warm and loving friends. Other than us, people in the neighborhood did not see our home as "that old white house", but rather as "the home of the Spain's". It was a place where me and my brothers and sisters would often sit around and vow to have complete and prosperous lives for our own children. (What thoughts for children to be having; but that's where we were). Our photo albums contain more pictures in the white house than any other home we lived in.

 

 Today the white house has been long torn down. Ironically, that house where Pat West spent many days inside with us; helping me and the twins rehearse our music and helping to choreograph our dance moves, hanging out with our sister, Joyce, and much more; now in its place stands a youth center/church which the repast for Pat West was held. Pat gathered in our home with us one final time.  

 

 

 "Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him that loved us.

 For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come,
 Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord".
-------------Romans 8:37-39

 

Rest In Peace, Pat.

I love you all,

Dennis