The Last Supper
From left to right; Bill, George, Glen, Sheila, and Katherine.
Last week, six of us gathered at our friends’ beautiful home for dinner for the last time, and since life has a way of moving along at the speed of light, we knew that this supper might possibly be the last time our group was able to meet up as a whole.
The six of us are made up of three couples, and when we met years ago, we became fast friends, thus, the “supper club” (as we affectionately call it), was born. We made it a point to get together fairly frequently to break bread at one of our homes or at a restaurant, and because Katherine and George’s house is large and lovely, with views of the mountains that take the breath away, we had quite a few pot luck dinners there. So, as we gathered at their home last week, there was that usual joy that we were together again, but we also knew that this chapter of our lives was coming to an end because Katherine and George had a closing on their house the next day and would be moving to Charlotte. Though they won’t be leaving until June, when their new condo in the adult living facility will be completed, a reflective sadness settled over us as we realized that this was our last supper club dinner there.
I met Katherine through a mutual friend many years ago. A lady of gentle demeanor, class and deep spirituality, I was immediately drawn to her. She is an exceptionally talented artist, and perhaps we were able to connect so easily because of a shared appreciation for each other’s creative work, as well as shared spiritual viewpoints, but no matter what the reasons were, both she and George became close friends; so much so that I sponsored George into Rotary. Over the years, we have shared Christmas and New Year’s days together, as well as each other’s birthdays, and because those special moments are usually saved for those you hold most dear, more and more layers of meaning and depth have been added to the degree of friendship we share.
The day I met fellow Rotarian and supper club member Bill, I was walking through the parking lot to my Rotary meeting. I hadn’t been a Rotarian for long, and hadn’t met all of the members yet, and, suddenly, there was this very tall and gregarious man heading toward the same building I was. Bill has a commanding presence that is not only easily seen and heard when he walks into a room, but felt, as well, which is probably why he had such a faithful congregation at our town’s Presbyterian church, where Bill was pastor for quite a few years. As we stood there talking in the parking lot, he laughed his wonderfully loud, boisterous laugh, which made me laugh just hearing it. “I have a feeling you and I will be good friends,” I said, and that did, indeed, come to pass. Soon after meeting Bill, I met his teeny tiny wife, Sheila, who has a powerful presence all her own. A smart, logical and very down-to-Earth lady, I couldn’t help but think that she was Bill’s ballast, keeping the boat that is their life on an even, smooth keel.
As we sat around the table at Katherine and George’s on this last evening there, we talked about what our futures would hold. Katherine enthusiastically talked about how good it would be to be near her family in Charlotte, and about the new art studio she had set up in a building that housed other fine artists. And George told us about living there a long time ago and how nice it would be to return to his old familiar stomping grounds. Bill and Sheila talked about their continued enjoyment of being newly retired, and filled us in about their next trip coming up, which will take them to California, then up the coastline and on to Canada. They’d just returned from a three-week vacation in Hawaii, and we laughed about not letting the dust settle beneath their suitcases. Next, Glen and I passed our cell phones around the dinner table, showing our friends the newest pictures of our newly completed lake house. We’ll split our time between it and the mountain home until our knees and hips can no longer deliver what we demand of them by climbing the many stairs in our mountain home then we’ll live full-time at the lake.
We didn’t linger long after brownies and ice cream. It was getting late and my husband had to catch an early flight for business the next morning. As we hugged each other good-bye, promising to “do this again sooner rather than later,” I think we all silently wondered how likely that was to occur. I knew Katherine and George’s spirits were already transitioning to their new life in Charlotte, and Sheila and Bill were taking a mental inventory of what they needed to unpack before packing for Canada, while Glen and I were thinking about getting our pontoon out of dry dock and onto the lake.
As we drove away, I turned to wave at Katherine and George as they stood in the doorway that would no longer belong to them in another day and thought about how quickly the years had passed, and that we were like spokes of a wheel now, all branching out from our shared cog of life together in Spruce Pine, to travel other roads away from each other as life dictated for us. And I thought about how those roads will change us yet again with different people coming in and out of our lives; reshaping and reforming us, while also teaching us, and those me meet will change and learn from us, as well. And, that, I realized, is the everlasting gift that remains long after those people we hold so dear move beyond our life’s daily radar.
I laid my head back in the seat as my husband quietly drove us home through a thickening veil of fog, and thought about how Easter is quickly approaching; a time that reminds us that deep bonds are never broken and that love never dies. Closing my eyes, I smiled as I thought about another Last Supper that took place so very long ago, and the beautiful synchronicity was not lost on me.