SPECIAL FRIENDSHIP SPURS EFFORT TO HONOR A LIFE THAT WENT DARK TOO EARLY; NO ONE SHOULD DIE WITHOUT AN OBITUARY.

Byline: DENNIS McCARTHY 

They paused for a moment on the top step of the apartment house stairs so Mary Lou could enjoy the sun on her face.

``It feels so good,'' she said. ``So warm.''

Jerry Cave gently held her blind friend's arm a few seconds longer as she felt the warmth on her face, then she helped Mary Lou down the stairs to the car that would take them to see Jerry's doctor.

For the first time, Jerry was fully realizing just how neglected Mary Lou had been the past 20 years, living alone in this tiny Sylmar apartment that was her world.

In the three years since she had learned of this lonely woman, and promised to look in on her from time to time, they had talked countless hours on the phone and in this apartment.

But that was only the third time Jerry could recall Mary Lou being out in public.

Two times they had gone together to hear the Valleyaires barbershop quartet sing at luncheons for Valley Grams, the local chapter of the National Federation of Grandmother Clubs, of which Jerry was president.

And now, that trip - taking Mary Lou to the doctor to see why she couldn't seem to eat anymore.

It would be the most deadly of reasons - cancer. It had spread unchecked throughout Mary Lou Barro's body, the doctors said, and was now literally strangling her esophagus, making it almost impossible to swallow food.

Jerry would sit for hours at her bedside at Providence Holy Cross Medical Center, holding the hand of this woman who had gone from good deed to good friend.

She tried hard to keep herself together, to be strong, but it was no use. She would feel herself beginning to lose it, and have to make up an excuse to leave.

``I have to go home and feed my dogs now, Mary Lou,'' Jerry said the last time, squeezing her friend's hand. ``I'll be back later.''

Too weak to nod or smile, Mary Lou could only squeeze the hand in hers with the last ounce of power in her body.

Jerry made it out the door before bursting out in tears. It was all too sad. Lying in that bed dying was one of the most kindhearted, sweet and loving people she had ever met.

And yet, no one, besides herself, seemed to care she was about to die.

Two hours later, the phone in Jerry Cave's home rang. It was a young priest from the hospital. Her friend, Mary Lou Barro, was dead.

It's been nine days now, and Jerry still cannot shake the feeling that a big part of Mary Lou Barro's life was left undone at the end.

No one should die without an obituary.

But what can she say? That her friend went blind at 32, and spent the last 34 years of her life living in darkness - that she never had a guide dog or learned Braille?

That she only felt secure and safe within the cramped quarters of a tiny apartment she knew every inch of, and kept absolutely spotless?

That the only picture in that apartment was of a beautiful, young woman who did some modeling before settling down and getting married, then widowed? Then went blind?

That in all those long hours of conversations, Mary Lou was always more interested in talking about how Jerry was feeling, and how her life was going. Mary Lou's life alone in her apartment never changed. Nothing was ever new.

All in all, it isn't much of an obituary, Jerry knows, but it is the only one she has.

In a few hours, she will be leaving for the monthly meeting of Valley Grams to break the news that Mary Lou had died.

Many of the grandmothers in the room will take it hard, Jerry knows, because though Mary Lou only came to two luncheons, she lit up those luncheons with an unforgettable glow.

It was as if she had saved up months and months of smiles and laughs she never used or needed in that apartment alone.

Saved them up to use sitting at a table with her only friend in the world, and listening to the Valleyaires bring back memories of a happy, carefree time in her life.

That's about it, Jerry Cave says. All she knows about this wonderful woman who became her friend late in life, and died nine days ago.

Can I maybe write something about her? Please. It's important.

No one should die without an obituary.