A Song for You

 Week Forty-three: A Song for You


I love you in a place where there's no space and time

I love you for my life, you are a friend of mine

And when my life is over

Remember when we were together

 We were alone and I was singing this song to you


—Leon Russell, A Song for You, from Leon Russell



Although I really don’t know why, recently when I heard A Song for You, which I have heard many, many times before, I thought of my friend Dyann Peters. Dyann and I weren’t ordinary friends. In fact, we never met.


Years ago I discovered a time-consuming app in which one player would draw something using a simple palette of colors. The second player was required to watch long enough to guess what was being drawn. That’s probably not enough description, but somehow, some way I found Dyann. Or she found me.


One thing we had in common was we always waited for the person drawing to finish before we guessed. Other random players would fill in the blanks as soon as they had a good idea of what was being drawn, but not us. As Dyann once told me, the fun is watching the drawing, not guessing the answer.


For some reason I wish I could remember how we became chums. I can’t. In fact, I can’t even remember how she became my one and only partner in this app. It wasn’t so long before we would, instead of drawing pictures, write messages to each other like “I hope you are well” or “How is the move coming along?”


Dyann had told me she was moving to Las Vegas from the Los Angeles area. Because I visit Las Vegas every other year for a bi-annual opportunity to lose money, I was excited to think I could actually meet my on-line friend.


That never happened.


In 2016 Deb and I lived in Amstelveen, NL for ten months. When my stint as a teacher at the International School of Amsterdam ended in June, we headed for Italy by way of Switzerland. The month-long vacation was a fantasy-come-true. The train ride through Europe ending in Venice was awesome. Venice was and is truly unlike any other place on earth. From there we stayed two weeks in Tuscany.


One evening like many others, Deb retired early as I searched the telly for sports. But that evening quickly became singular. I opened the draw app and saw a message from Dyann. It was not like her to actually draw, so I was eager to see what she had done. When I opened it, in her shaky handwriting a message slowly began to appear.


“I won’t be able to watch you draw any more. I have a brain tumor. Thank you for so many beautiful drawings.”


I remember hating my Chromebook. Frustration was replaced with sorrow. I wept.


She wasn’t kidding. I continued to draw and send her pictures, but she never responded.


Although we had safely returned to our comfortable lives in North Carolina, I didn’t forget about my drawing friend. I checked her Facebook account, but there was no news. I sent her messages, but she didn’t respond. I should have known.


At least six weeks after we returned from Europe, I had not heard anything from Dyann. My memory of the exact sequence is a bit fuzzy, but I do recall clearly the notification from Dyann’s account. I quickly opened the message. It was from her daughter. 


My mother died today. I want you to know how much she enjoyed seeing the pictures you drew for her. She mentioned you often.


___


I deleted the painting app. I haven’t opened it since that day.



A SONG FOR YOU - Leon Russell & Friends (1971)

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