His death. Her sadness. Her death. My sadness.

We converted our guest bedroom into an office when I started working again in March. But doing so meant we had to disassemble the gorgeous bed that was generously given to us about 7 years ago from a friend and her husband. Even now, as I sit here at the desk in the office, I can see two of the torn pieces of tape that he had attached to the various parts of the bed - he wrote different letters of the alphabet on those pieces of tape in an effort to help us put the bed together when we got it home. When we picked the bed up from their house, it had already been disassembled - but he had laid every piece out on the floor, and then walked us through all of it. They wouldn't let us give them anything for the bed. It had apparently belonged to a friend of theirs...and that friend didn't want it back. I don't know very much about furniture, but it looks expensive. So generous. We're moving to a new house in about a month, but there won't be a good spot for this bed in that new house, so it's going to a new home where it will be well loved. 

When we got married, we couldn't invite our entire church community to the wedding - the spaces we used were simply not large enough. We got married on a Friday evening, mostly because our church held its liturgy on Saturday evenings. Following our wedding, we planned to spend a week in a cabin in the woods, but we weren't leaving until Sunday. Knowing we'd be at church on Saturday, she asked if we'd be open to a small celebration with church folks - she'd bake a cake. If you knew her, you already know that if she offered to bake you a cake, you simply did not turn her down.

That small I'll-bake-you-a-cake celebration turned into a second wedding reception, complete with a full meal and live music. And gifts. And cake, of course. Amy's parents said something about going back to church if that's what all church meals were like.

But for us, that's what all church meals were like. She had a gift for hospitality. She had a gift for executing a damn good church meal. She'd buy meat in bulk when she knew another meal was on the calendar. And on the night when a meal was on the calendar, she'd keep a close eye on the number of people in attendance, and if she felt under-prepared (not something that happened often), she'd make a mad dash to the grocery store while the rest of us were in church - those nights, in particular, had a very "loaves and fish" kind of vibe. Those meals were flawless and delicious. She'd accept help in the kitchen, but by invitation only. And if she needed you to make something for the meal, she'd send a recipe instead of allowing you to go off the ranch with some sort of risky experiment. She knew what she was doing.

One summer, we were all at church on a Saturday morning for a plant sale we were hosting. She was there to prepare and serve us breakfast. He showed up with three of the tiniest kittens I've ever seen. They were frequently asked (by the local Humane Society) to foster newborn kittens, so we'd listen to stories of middle-of-the-night feedings and stories of how they were really trying not to get too attached to these babies. She'd send me and Amy emails with pictures of the kittens. Caring for those tiny babies brought them both a lot of joy. And if she had to be at church at a time when he wasn't at home (and therefore unable to take care of a baby), she'd bring a kitten with her....to church. It was fantastic.

About 7 years ago (which I almost said was 4 years ago until I just looked at my Google photos....because where does the time go??), a bunch of us took a 10-day trip to Rome, Italy. Those two were frequent travelers to Rome, and they were excited to show us around their favorite city in Europe. Many years earlier, they had befriended an ex-pat who had made Rome his home....and on this trip, she convinced this friend to take us all out on an Art-in-Rome excursion - and I want to go back to Rome to see more of the things he showed us. On our last night in that amazing city, they made reservations at one of their favorite restaurants on the Piazza Navona - they had already pre-selected (and paid for) the meal and wine (oh, the wine...), and all the rest of us had to do was sit back, relax, and enjoy their generosity.

I never did hear much about how it all went down, but he died during the very early days of Covid. 

Over the last 16 months, I've sent her various emails - to check in - to say hi - to let her know that we were here when she was ready...

There was a part of me that knew I'd never see her again. But honestly, I thought I'd never see her again because I expected her to escape to another part of the country....or Rome. I mean, I understood that death was a possibility, because sadness and survivor guilt are real....but I sure as hell wasn't prepared for the news we received.

She was an intensely private person, and I have decided to mourn her by learning as much about her past as I can. It's actually been a lot of fun - finding high school photos, newspaper articles, family obituaries - all giving me little pieces to a very big puzzle. And I really wish we could meet for dinner somewhere in the twin cities so I could show her the things I've found...and watch her be amazed at my research.

This is a photo of her from high school. I am really going to miss her. Rest in peace, friend.