A Letter From Letty

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Pam Linn

On Dec. 11, 2008, The Malibu Times published my column, “Finding Judy.” The piece was about karma — what it means and how the things we do can come back to us, bringing great happiness and peace.

When my older sister Judy bought a house in an area she used to call “the barrio,” she had no idea that she would befriend her neighbors in a very special way. Having never had children of her own, she took an interest in that family, teaching the young children to speak English, taking them to museums, helping with homework and generally treating them as her own.

The oldest daughter of that family, Letty, not only learned English, she grew up to become a registered nurse and work at the local hospital. She began to treat her former mentor as a member of her family, so as Judy’s health began to fail, Letty took over her care — at least as much as Judy would allow.

Having suffered two strokes, Judy gradually retreated from her life and her friends, not wanting them to see her looking less than her best. She quit answering her phone and disconnected her computer, leaving all of us wondering what had happened to her.

After two of her friends called my daughter to inquire about her, fearing the worst, I went looking.

That’s when I found Letty, who had married and was raising her own children while working full time and looking in on Judy every day. She and her husband had bought a house just a few doors down the street. Her parents still owned and lived in the house next door to Judy.

They still spoke little English but, even as Judy became more reclusive, they looked after each other with Letty interceding when necessary.

After I moved to Montana, I would go to visit on my semiannual trips to California. Then, Judy began to reject seeing me and we would talk only on the telephone. I knew she didn’t like the way she looked and I respected her wish to keep to herself.

It may help to understand who Judy was for most of her life. She had an I.Q. up there in Mensa territory, winning many quiz shows and qualifying for Jeopardy (in the days when that show had a tournament for seniors). She knew practically all the answers, but felt that she would be too slow to compete with younger contestants. When they told her she couldn’t be on the senior tournament, she gave up.

Then she developed an interest in court proceedings, serving a year on the grand jury and later covering several famous trials for a national magazine. She had also started and ran her own horse magazine, doing basically everything herself. It was top quality and hugely successful until she sold it.

Her whole life, she was perfectly organized, coifed, dressed and made-up; her quick wit and sense of humor were widely appreciated. So, it was understandable to me that when the strokes took their toll, she wouldn’t want anyone to see her. Hence, she relied more on Letty and, gradually, let go of her friends and relatives.

I still sent her a birthday card every year, but she stopped sending cards to me and to everyone else. So when the letter from Letty arrived, I knew at once what had happened. Judy had died in her sleep less than a week after her 84th birthday. I was grateful that she went to her just reward — whatever that might be — without having to go back to a nursing home or hospital.

It’s hard to know if anybody showed up or if any of her old friends even knew. When you give up contact as she did, people tend to forget and they just get on with their own lives. I think they respected her wish for solitude just as I did.

Letty wrote that she was making all the arrangements as per Judy’s wishes. Caring for Letty was the most selfless thing Judy ever did, and, ultimately, was returned with Letty caring for her. I guess that’s what karma is all about.