Rest In Peace, Rose

Dang it!

Just... Dang it!

This time it's personal, and equally unexpected. I opened an email this morning letting me know that a mutual friend had died of a heart attack. The person letting me know, Mary, is a former club president, two presidents ago, has a mutual friend with Rose who informed her of Rose's death, and knew what I hadn't needed to know yet, our club traditions when one of our members dies. So I've just returned from sitting at the club computer, sending a club-wide email letting everybody know and promising to inform them when we hear abut a service or have a card at the front desk for people to sign.

Fortunately the club was empty while I was there. I didn't want to face anybody in person about it yet.

Rose Nash was a regular presence in the club, her history there going back before mine, and even before former president Mary's start with the club. In fact it was Rose who introduced Mary to the club back in 2012, something we are all grateful for, whether we knew about it or not. Not only was Mary a several-term president, but also as a former school teacher, very happy to hold workshops teaching simple introductory skills with wire, sheet metals, and glass to any member who got their name among the first 8 on the sign-up sheet for that workshop.

Rose did a couple workshops, but was more known for teaching chain making, from simple to complicated, even branching out into many patterns of chain mail. Elaborate chain bracelets of her making, in copper, brass, bronze, or sterling, got sold in the store. She was always willing to help anybody with a question, whether she'd taught you before or not. (Teaching classes was her version of employment, getting paid for them as an economic necessity, and the club helped by declaring that to be her fiefdom, nobody else formally teaching.) 

When I delved into chain mail back before covid shut the clubs totally down for a while, she'd noticed the book of patterns I was working through, joined me in poring over patterns, and offered her samples of one's she'd done for a good, hands-on look/feel, as well as some tips for making mine better. "Make it (pointing at a particular bit of the pattern) smaller!" She was right of course, but tiny jump rings are hard to make, harder to work with. I started out large and slowly brought them down, partly due to increasing skill, mostly because eyes and hands needed the large size just to get the concept down.

Rose was always friendly and welcoming, never grumpy, never turning her back. Just listening to her voice was a joy, though I hadn't thought about it until I knew I wasn't going to be hearing it again. It had a lilt to it, a special quality that let you know she was just happy to simply be. Even when she was expressing her frustration with recent memory issues, there was no anger,  just steady Rose being Rose. We had a couple conversations on what our respective doctors are doing - or not - to help in that area, and effects for good, or not-so-much, of different medications.

My last memory of her isn't actually of her. One of her students was struggling with a pattern Rose taught her reently, one I knew backwards and forwards. Rose wasn't in that day, so I was asked if I knew where this student was going wrong. Of course! I just had to pick it back a couple rings to get oriented before heading forward. So of course, not having touched that pattern for about 4 years, I flubbed it worse than it had already been! I apologized, but was thanked for trying anyway. She'd wait for Rose to be there again, however, to set her straight. That was about 8 weeks ago. I certainly hope they connected. I could get back to that point again if needed, but Rose wouldn't have had to do more than look and point to the exact ring.

I've heard about several deaths in our club. They range from faces across the room to people I've worked alongside on the board. I've attended funerals, signed cards, expressed condolences, given hugs. This is the first time I've had to stop and wipe my eyes several times at the news, had to keep carrying on to pass the news along, and let the sadness flood over me again.

Rest in Peace, Rose Nash. Your friendly, helpful presence, your lilting voice, all will be missed. There will be no more memories you need to worry about losing. Now, we will all hold you in ours.