How do you write about someone who was in your life for more than a decade and was your confidante and friend and taste tester and advisor and critic and supporter and cheer leader? How do you get over the fact that death snatched her prematurely from the world? How do you resign yourself to the cold fact that she is gone, and you will never hear her voice again, the sweet way she addressed your kids, "Honey!". How do you remind yourself that you just can't pick up the phone and fill her in on the latest gossip? How do you convince your adult son, that the aunt he has known since he was just nine, is in a better place?
It all happened so fast and by the time it dawned on me that she was declining pretty fast, she was actually gone. And as I sit here trying to make sense of her sudden disappearance, I am learning, learning how transitory life is.
How I met her is a story in itself.
Manny wanted to go to Taekwondo and so we signed him up for classes. While the classroom was huge, the waiting room was this tiny, dingy place with a threadbare couch and a few chairs. Two or three classes in, one eliminates a lot of people and zones in on people that seem to have a vibe- that they are your tribe?
That was Deborah. Its almost like we gravitated towards each other. She, I later found out was a decade older than me, but didn't look her age at all. In fact she didn't ever look her age, until she fell ill. But we had kids who were only a year apart and we also had kids with special needs. So there was more to our affinity for each other. We were truly, truly, the same tribe.
The funny thing is, both the boys, hers and mine, gave up martial arts within the year, but our friendship persisted until she passed away.
After the boys dropped out, we didn't meet on a weekly basis or whatever, but we called and emailed, and occasionally met for coffee or lunch. But we never lost touch. We made it a point to meet in person as often as we could, and as the kids grew up, scouting became part of both their lives and that was another link for the two of us.
She was so fond of both my kids and Manny's every achievement, whether it was academic or scout related or even his piano prowess. She was so encouraging of his efforts and so proud of his successes. To him, she was the aunt he had ready access to. All his aunts on both parents' sides were far away and she was his de facto aunt in every way. She indulged him, encouraged him, loved him and was very very happy for him. In fact Manny wanted her to deliver the Eagle Charge at his Eagle Scout Court of Honor. She was so happy to do it for him. Avid Seahawks fans both, they watched games together at home and in fact made plans to watch a game in Seattle when the Covid curse was behind us. She even convinced me to come along and agreed to let me stay at the hotel while they went out to watch the game. That plan of ours will, now, never be fulfilled. I wonder what Deborah would have thought about Russell Wilson being traded to the Broncos...
She was always ready to help with everything. Any party I invited her to, she would stay back and help clean up, how much ever I convinced her that I would manage. She was so thoughtful with her gifts and never forgot the kids' birthdays ever. Manny even had Seahawks gear shipped to him at Creighton.
She was very patient with Noe and indulged him with love. I still remember her massaging his scalp with a game about breaking an egg over his head. She answered his oft repeated questions without any trace of impatience and was so thoughtful about all her interactions with him. She bought him an apron, a measuring cup set and a cookbook for his 16th birthday and we will treasure them forever.
And me?
I've lost someone who never judged me. I could open up about anything, and she would hear me out before telling me what she thought about it. Gently persuasive, she always had a thoughtful perspective on things and has changed my mind and hence my decision about quite a few things.
I've lost someone who loved my cooking. When we fixed up a visit, I would start saving dishes I made, two days before the actual visit. And when we were ready to eat, out would tumble all the tiny boxes I'd stored the fridge. She would inhale and then gently sniff every dish and we had a game between us where she would guess the dominant spice( never an easy thing when it comes to Indian cuisine). Every mouthful was accompanied by oohs and aahs of ecstasy and comments on the spiciness and choice of vegetables or protein. That to an avid cook, was the highest praise ever!
But most of all, I could open up to her about my feelings and opinions without ever feeling that I was being judged. She would offer me a different perspective if mine was too biased, but never tell me I was wrong. She nudged, but never pushed. I have cried with her, laughed with her, gossiped with her, complained with her, rolled eyes with her at someone or something, and shot the breeze with her. And I've enjoyed every minute of it .
But the fact that now she becomes a memory- sorrowful and painful, is heart wrenching. That regret that we will not create new memories will gnaw at my heart always.
But as they say, time heals all, I know our sorrow will mellow. I know I will look back at all our memories with her with joy and comfort. It will no longer be accompanied by that awful stab through my heart. And I know that we will recover from this awful blow. Because the memories that we have are so precious and powerful. And she lives on. In my heart and in my mind. Godspeed Deborah!! I love you and always will.
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