Faithful Friends

“He’s my best friend,” wrote Lenore Nash, my cousin, from Lexington, Kentucky.

At the time, in August 2014, I had communicated with family and friends about uncle Steve’s health journey with Parkinson’s. Looking back through emails and Facebook messages, I was amazed at how these simple forms of communication kept everyone connected despite the miles of separation.

Now, some twelve years later, I am offering the same communication for my dad’s first cousin, Lenore to family, friends, and neighbors. Two years ago, Lenore was diagnosed with stomach cancer and had her stomach removed. She made major changes in her life and remained in the home she had lived in since moving there with her parents, Lucille and Gordon Nash, some sixty years ago.

Last month, I received a similar call about Lenore being in the hospital and the doctors determining that her stomach cancer had returned and had spread throughout her body. It was good to spend time with her during the last week of her life, tell her stories, and share love from family and friends who emailed me their thoughts and prayers. Our family will be forever grateful to the neighbor who noticed Lenore was not out walking her dog and called the police to request a wellness check, and to the neighbors and housekeepers who visited her in the hospital.

The circumstances and conversations with family and friends felt very familiar, as both Lenore and Steve were single and did not have children. It has also been good to hear stories about Lenore from people in the community: her high school friend of sixty years, her neighbor of sixteen years, her housekeeper of eight years, and her financial advisor of twenty-five years. Each one shared stories about their conversations with Lenore that helped me know her life more fully.

On the day of her death, I sat on my front porch and offered thanks to God for her love and friendship with my uncle and dad alongside that same care extended to me, my husband, and our two daughters. Then it felt like I stepped into the shoes of my dad and uncle Steve who stayed connected to their family members better than anyone I have ever known.

Over the next two hours, I called Lenore’s first cousins, friends, and neighbors. Each one had a story to share about Lenore from playing as children on Grande Boulevard in Boone to traveling to San Francisco. Along with those phone calls, I read stories from emails and Facebook friends about their connections through dog rescues and safari adventures in Africa.

As I recall my own memories with Lenore, I remember the joyful visits in 2016 and 2019 when we stayed at her house and played for hours with Jimmy and Izzy in her living room. We enjoyed talking about all things animals and family as she spoke about her pets and African safaris in 2015 and 2017.

Our conversations were not always joyful. We had some difficult talks as well, especially in the hospital. In June 2024, Lenore and I discussed how bills could be paid while she wasn’t feeling her best. Then, in June 2026, I sat in a chair beside Lenore in her hospital bed and spoke to her, though she remained unresponsive, about the past week of her hospital stay, her move to the hospice floor, the death of her dog, and the neighbor who would care for her cat. Then I talked with her about life and death. I told her it was okay to let go when she was ready and that I would stop talking about dying and let her and God talk it out. Lenore died three days later.

God’s goodness is often discovered in hindsight, and I have discovered God’s goodness over and over again through the gracious people who shared their love, compassion, and life with Lenore Jane Nash. Their stories reminded me that a person’s legacy is not measured by the size of a family tree but by the countless lives, both human and creature, touched through friendship, kindness, and love.

Read more about the life and legacy of Lenore Jane Nash in her obituary.