We lost a Beautiful Matriarch

Last week, a dear member of our community decided she had had enough. She was tired, she was 97 and she decided to complete her circle of life. If I wade through my sadness of losing an immense force in this community and my life I land on an example of who I want to be at 97. I respect and admire that she literally did it her way. She texted my husband (an adopted son) and told him that she was voluntarily entering Hospice she said, “I am tired and I don’t want to do this anymore.” When I read those words I completely understood her stance intellectually. When we went to Hospice to see her she was sound asleep. I kissed her on the forehead and held her hand and bid my farewell. My stoic rationalism broke down at that moment. I wept for the loss of her physical presence and how I would miss her sassiness in my life.

Rima Parhurst was a true rogue. I say this in awe of her boldness. Her rogueness was rare and precious. She was unapologetic, she was adventurous, she was authentic, she was fearless and best of all she was true to herself. I know a little about her long and winding path to self awareness and truth. She never mislead ANYONE regarding where she stood on issues. She was resilient, she had grit and she was intelligent, probing and thoughtful. She had grace, beauty and humility. If you had the courage to call her out on something with which you didn’t agree she would ponder and come back to you and tell you that you were either full of shit or she agreed with your perspective. She is exactly who I would want to be in the the sunset of my years.

I knew Rima for the 25 years I have had Out of the Fire. She was a big fan of the restaurant. I mentioned earlier that she was incredibly resilient, but the resiliency did not come without a proper amount of time to process. When I told her I was moving the restaurant to it’s new location she was despondent and not particularly supportive even though she knew it was something I had to do. Weeks before the move (she was 94) she would lament about the move and how much she would miss her favorite table. In my dismissive, no nonsense attitude, I said, “Rima, you will be fine, it will be the same food, same people and same environment!” Basically, shut the flock up, Rima, it will be fine! And guess what? It was fine! She was effusive about the new location. That was quintessential Rima. I am going to complain and bitch until I either accept or make myself miserable. She ALWAYS worked through things with a great amount of aplomb, adaptability and resilience.

In her late 80’s she rode around Easton on a Vespa without a helmet. This was terrifying to me (admittedly I would most likely do the same!). She would park her green Vespa on the sidewalk next to Out of the FIre. One day she walked into the restaurant to have her weekly lunch. I said, “Rima, if you wipe out on your Vespa your head will be tartare, you must wear a helmet!” Her response to me was, “Fuck that, Amy, if I die driving my Vespa that will be a very happy death!” Her happiness was living life on her terms and she did it to perfection!

I think she was 94 when her kids decided it was a bad idea that she live in her house without support. She moved to Londonderry. At first she was not happy about the transition. Mostly because it represented the final phase of her independence. She was extremely depressed and reticent, but guess what? She adapted and was very happy there! Amazing! I often told her how much I respected her resilience. In typical Rima fashion she blew off my words of praise.

When she was 95 she had an accident near the restaurant in her Saab. Her children and the State of Maryland agreed she should not be driving a car. She was not happy about losing her independence. Her kids, in their wonderfully supportive creativity bought her a 3 wheeler. She would ride it around Easton and she agreed to wear a helmet. Her son had made a small compartment on the back of the 3 wheeler for her cane. I will never forget the joy of seeing her with a big satisfied grin on her face as she ferried herself through the streets of Easton.

You will be missed, my irreverent and beautiful friend! If you didn’t know Rima I hope you have the good fortune of knowing someone like Rima. She was a marvelous and cantankerous matriarch.