Amazing Grace

I remember her laugh. That mirthful, contagious laughter which often caused her eyes to well up with tears as she relayed one of her many tales. She loved a funny story.

Some days I drive slowly down Catbrier Lane, past her old house. It holds new owners now, people I have never known. Her family have long departed. As falling burnt orange and red leaves dance in the breeze amid the ubiquitous, grinning and glowing Jack-o-lanterns, I remember too, how she loved Halloween.

Twelve years have come and gone but that day is still etched in memory. The day life became a shade grayer, following the news that my beautiful friend Grace had without warning, departed this world at 49 years of age.

I had just seen her the day before, as always, a vision of fortitude and strength. She asked me to meet her at a furniture store where she had placed a large, antique mirror on hold. Could I help her get it into her car? And then the next morning, when she complained of back pain I reasoned it was from of course, moving that big mirror.  

By nightfall, she was gone.

We met at drop off on the first day of nursery school. And then as the years rolled on, we found ourselves again entwined when both our children now in their teens, joined a springboard diving team in a neighboring town. And a friendship which began slowly, progressed from the occasional wave in the market to daily phone calls, often exceeding an hour in length.

In an age of computers and texting, I loved those phone calls. We delighted in discovering commonalities from our youth—how we both loved teen idol Scott Baio and the dreamy David Cassidy or debating the merits of which was the better beach? the Jersey Shore (her choice being a Jersey girl) or Jones Beach (mine, growing up on Long Island). I would cradle the phone under my chin as I made the beds, never wanting to hang up as there was always just one more story. And always more laughter.

Her tough façade shielded a gentle heart. She once trapped a possum that was ravaging her vegetable garden, in a cage she had purchased at The Home Depot. That was so Grace. Why call a professional when she could do it herself? The next morning as she crept up to check the cage, she was devastated to discover that in trapping the creature, it had perished. As she dejectedly opened the trap door, the possum sprang out. She laughed and laughed as she told me she had forgotten that possums played dead.

Grace was steadfast and unwavering in her beliefs; a formidable participant in any discussion.

A topic that came up frequently between us was the amount of driving time needed to arrive at a certain locale. We often carpooled together to diving practice and Grace claimed it took her no more than twenty minutes from her home to the YMCA, wherein I would argue that was impossible, as our house was closer and I could not get to the Y in less than twenty five. There were never any loud arguments or bad feeling, just a persistent impasse.

“Perhaps you drive faster than me?” I would remark. And she would confidently smile and say, “No, 20 minutes door to door . . .” and so it went on for years, the debate of distance with no declared winner, just a constant volley between us.

Her two favorite words were “divine” and “fantastic,” which she used in abandon. You felt like there was nothing she could not accomplish. She was the definition of a doer, a ying to my yang.  Confrontational, strong, never wavering in her beliefs.  

Loyal, funny, and protective, she loved Hugh Grant movies, Estate Sales and the city of London where she had lived for a period during her single years. She cherished her childhood friend Diana, who shared her Polish heritage of which she was so proud. Her joy was hosting summer barbecue pool parties, always being among those she loved. She visited the ocean at any chance possible and delighted in finding exotic locales for family vacations.

Above all, Grace loved her family, the true joy and light of her life. And there is no doubt her spirit, strength and determination live on through her two daughters Maren and Devon, who I have watched grow into beautiful young women.

Although I will not see my cherished friend again in this world, I keep close to me the memories of her voice, mannerisms, and of course, that laughter. If I am to take anything away from this tremendous loss it is that age-old advice that life is fleeting. I am not one for hugging, but what I would give to hug her one last time and tell her how happy she made my life during our short time together.

And during those times when I don’t feel her near, I ponder where her spirit may be. And then, a vision comes which goes something like this . . .

A calm, deep, soothing voice is heard, “Grace, it is time to leave to greet our new friends. It will take you 15 minutes to reach the gate, and if the clouds are thick, it may take some extra time . . .”

A steady, confident voice replies, “It takes only ten minutes. I have been there twice now and there is no way it takes more than ten minutes.” The voice begins to object but then reconsiders. She has not been here very long, but he is already aware of her capabilities. That is one of the reasons he chose her for this job. He responds calmly, “Very good, Grace, I trust your judgment.”

We all did.