Elizabeth

This week saw another Burk family retirement - Elizabeth. In many ways, this retirement was more noteworthy than my own.

My retirement had been on the horizon for years. We saw it coming. There was anticipation. There was planning. There was fretting, adjustment, theorizing, uncertainty, excitement, and finally relief. With Elizabeth there was none of that. It all happened in a day.

Elizabeth was our housekeeper, arriving at our home at seven every other Wednesday morning and working often past five. She had been with us most of our married lives, starting with her cross-town bus trips to Dearborn in the early '80s. But that's only recent history. Elizabeth was also housekeeper to Nancy's grandmother, aunt, and parents, Rae and Marge, since before Nancy was born. Let me repeat that. Since before Nancy was born. That would be since the early '50s.

Elizabeth was in all ways but blood a family member. She was there as Nancy and her brother Dave grew up. She was there through all the births, deaths and weddings that have occurred in the family the last 60 years. She was on our holiday shopping lists. In short, she was one of the constants of our family life. No one in our immediate family had ever been without her.

But, in recent years (and I emphasize only in recent years), Elizabeth's mobility and strength slowly diminished, as it only could. We wondered on and off if it was time for us to end the relationship and let her retire. But how do you retire a family member? We never had the will or the courage to seriously pursue the issue.

So last Wednesday, at the outset of Elizabeth's regular bi-weekly visit, she took control of the situation herself. She mentioned to Nancy during the ride from the bus stop that it might be time to call it a day. We believe she was moved by her realization that she was no longer able to perform the full range of services that she had in the past. But in true Elizabeth form, she deferred to us for the final decision as Elizabeth was the personification of a service professional. She asked that we make a decision by the end of the day.

Nancy and I discussed the question briefly and knew that since Elizabeth had raised the issue, that there could only be one answer. The challenge became just how to say goodbye. We did our best to work through the day in a normal manner, going about our routine, chatting lightly with Elizabeth as our paths crossed in one room or another, but clearly focused on the close of the day and the goodbye. In the end, the goodbye was as simple and straightforward as the relationship had always been. Some reminiscing, an offering of flowers, hugs, smiles, and a final wave. And then she was gone. Simple, but for us, deeply sad.

There will be the occasional phone call I'm sure, and perhaps a postcard from one of our frequent vacation spots, but the relationship we have had for so many years is now essentially over. Elizabeth, we will miss you, and we wish you nothing but the best.

And one more thing that must be noted. As you may expect, with over 60 years of service to the LeRoy and Burk families, Elizabeth was on in years. Just how far on we never could determine and cared too much for Elizabeth's dignity to ask (she was an intensely private person about her personal life). But as a parting gift to Nancy on the ride back to the bus stop (she always insisted that she get to and from her jobs on her own, by bus, despite long standing offers to pick her up and take her home ourselves), she announced that she wanted us to know how old she was.

"I was born on March 1, 1914." She has retired at 98 (which effectively makes me a slacker).  Here's a shot of Elizabeth with Nancy, taken last year.

Nancy and I hope to finally get our jaws off the floor sometime before the end of the month. We had no idea.