Judy Lunden was more than just a family friend – she was our honorary family member for many years. When she and my mother met in the ‘70s, they had an instant connection. Soon Judy became a familiar thread woven into the fabric of our lives. Her spirit was magnetic; her laugh and sharp, quick-witted retorts had a way of turning ordinary evenings into memorable gatherings.
She relished debates at our dinner table. No special occasion was complete without Judy. But, as life often does, it shifted. After changes in her life and ours, Judy made a huge decision in the early 90’s to move from Dallas to California to be near her own family. Years passed, and as we moved and navigated the world before cell phones, our connection was lost. Time moved on, marked by birthdays spent wondering about Judy.
Nearly a decade later, I was working as an Executive Director in an Assisted Living community near the Houston Medical Center. One day, Deborah, the head of HR at our home office, asked if she could use our building to interview a candidate the following week. I offered her the sitting area just outside my office. The candidate would be flying in to interview for a position at one of our new communities in San Francisco.
On the day of the interview, I was away from the building. When I returned, Deborah sat at the table outside my office in animated conversation with the candidate, who faced away from me. Deborah greeted me and I responded. Suddenly, the woman’s head whipped around. There was Judy!
“Oh my gosh! What are YOU doing here?” Her voice was bright and lilting, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still. It was as if a ghost had appeared before me. Judy looked just the same as all those years before, brown eyes twinkling and a huge smile on her face. Overwhelmed, and trying not to interrupt the interview, I went into my office to collect myself. When Judy stepped in a few minutes later, her smile, wide and familiar, greeted me and the years melted away.
She didn’t skip a beat: “Where is your mother?” she asked, her tone urgent and tender. I told her that she was down the street in the hospital, undergoing cancer treatment. We quickly headed out and drove the few blocks to the hospital. Full of emotion, we both cried all the way there.
When we entered mother’s room, the look on her face was priceless, a mixture of disbelief and joy when she saw Judy. For a moment, the hospital faded away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of togetherness. The hours that followed were filled with laughter, stories, tears, and marveling at the impossible odds that had just brought us back together. It was like a dream.
Weeks earlier, Judy had stopped at a tiny café in a small town in California. Someone had left a copy of the San Francisco Chronicle on the table. Inside, Judy found an article about Patricia Will, a woman from Houston making great waves in the Assisted Living industry, expanding to build state-of-the-art communities around the country, notably, northern California.
Inspired by Patricia’s story she held onto the newspaper, wondering about the possibility of meeting her and perhaps joining the company. Though she lacked direct experience, her successful property management career gave her confidence. Maybe there could be a fit. A few weeks later, she called Patricia’s company. She recounted the story of reading the article and asked where she could send her resume. Soon, she found herself in a conversation with Deborah, in the HR department, arranging an interview, back in her home state of Texas.
She didn’t get the job, but Judy was back – back in Texas, back in our lives, back in our family forever.
(Jan Fitzhugh, a longtime leader in senior care, and lobbyist for senior rights in Texas. She now spends her time in Wimberley as a leader in the art community. Always eager to connect and collaborate, she also volunteers for various nonprofit projects in Wimberley. Jan.fitzhugh@ outlook. com )
