We are all so lucky to have had each other. I'm wearing the jacket that we all got the material for together when she took us to B&J fabrics right now, and earlier today, stirred milk into my coffee and put the spoon on the spoon rest from another trip we all got together (Fish's Eddy). She's part of us forever and always.
I remember your photos of dancing with Bridget, and I remember Deborah Copaken’s essay about her. Even in her diminished state, she seems to bring out the best in people. What a gift. I’m glad you two found ech other. I’m starting my day with a full heart.
Oh, thanks for taking the time to let me know that, Rona. It felt good to revisit the columns and find that one, and then to put in writing what an impact Bridget has had on my life.
Debby, as I read this piece you wrote years ago it made me so happy that you were able to reconnect with Bridget. The sadness I feel for her and your friendship that she has Alzheimer’s is very sad. My brother was also diagnosed with this horrible disease. It is the “long goodbye” and time spent together is extremely important. I understand the sadness and how special your friendship is. ❤️❤️
Diane, I didn't realize that your brother had Alzheimer's. It has touched so many people I know, including my mother-in-law. And after Mom died we found out she had it, too, but we just thought it was dementia tangential to her Parkinson's. I was glad I didn't know—the Parkinson's was hard enough to contemplate... (Did you know Bridget's family in Utica?)
Oh, Diane. I didn't know that about your brother either. If there's any way Debby and I can be there for anything (venting about how cruel the universe can be, eg.), please please know we are here.
What a sad and yet luminous story about friendship, fond remembrance, and about how we sometimes, without even realizing it, influence other people’s lives. Thank you for this story, Debby.
We are all so lucky to have had each other. I'm wearing the jacket that we all got the material for together when she took us to B&J fabrics right now, and earlier today, stirred milk into my coffee and put the spoon on the spoon rest from another trip we all got together (Fish's Eddy). She's part of us forever and always.
I remember your photos of dancing with Bridget, and I remember Deborah Copaken’s essay about her. Even in her diminished state, she seems to bring out the best in people. What a gift. I’m glad you two found ech other. I’m starting my day with a full heart.
Oh, thanks for taking the time to let me know that, Rona. It felt good to revisit the columns and find that one, and then to put in writing what an impact Bridget has had on my life.
Debby, as I read this piece you wrote years ago it made me so happy that you were able to reconnect with Bridget. The sadness I feel for her and your friendship that she has Alzheimer’s is very sad. My brother was also diagnosed with this horrible disease. It is the “long goodbye” and time spent together is extremely important. I understand the sadness and how special your friendship is. ❤️❤️
Diane, I didn't realize that your brother had Alzheimer's. It has touched so many people I know, including my mother-in-law. And after Mom died we found out she had it, too, but we just thought it was dementia tangential to her Parkinson's. I was glad I didn't know—the Parkinson's was hard enough to contemplate... (Did you know Bridget's family in Utica?)
Oh, Diane. I didn't know that about your brother either. If there's any way Debby and I can be there for anything (venting about how cruel the universe can be, eg.), please please know we are here.
What a sad and yet luminous story about friendship, fond remembrance, and about how we sometimes, without even realizing it, influence other people’s lives. Thank you for this story, Debby.
Thanks for letting me know it touched you, Galina. (It's also nice to hear from you!)