Cookie in mourning

I just received word that one of the most important women in my life has died.  Anna, at 86, didn't just have a great run in life, she had a fabulous run.  She was Auntie Mame. 

We used to talk for hours and visit over good food.   She knew me as a child, a teen, and as an adult.  

She was one of the first people I came out to.

We knew mutual people - and one family in particular - that we watched helplessly turn into a true sideshow. 

She knew my mother and my father. 

I knew her ex-husband and her children. 

We enjoyed the same things, from antiquing to bowling to just good gossip.

All I had to say to Anna to crack her up was "Pat's Couch", and she would take that baton and run with it about the "Pink Palace" that Pat (my step monster) had created in my father's house.  Pat had positively the worst taste in home furnishings. And whenever I could sneak her into my father's house Anna had a dead-on critique over every piece. "When does she find this crap." she would say.  It wasn't a question.  My stepmother's taste was all in her mouth. 

I once said, "I have no idea why (my father) married her."  

And without missing a beat, Anna came back with "I'll tell you why: Pat swallows. Or so I hear."

Now, there is no one left who remembers what I remember about events and people who passed by my life from 4th grade on.  No one left to call when I need a memory checked, refresh, or a good laugh.  No one. 

Oh, I have other friends and cousins, but Anna was the one that I could slip away with and we could have an honest conversation about the circus of life swirling about us, and step back into the spectacle with a wink and a nod. 

When my father died, she was by my side every moment for a week.  She literally kept me from falling completely apart. She also kept food in front of me, reminding me that I had to keep my strength up.  "You need to cry this one out Cookie.  And that takes energy. So you need to eat."

At the first shiva in that condo at Acacia Park that my father never wanted, but Pat had to have, she kept me safe and guarded from Shark's family.  

Our family decided to leave the Shiva in Pat's condo and take the party onto our turf.  As we were leaving Anna told me to keep an eye out, and she ducked into the bedroom that Pat and my father shared.   

She returned after a few seconds and said "Look, if Pat is going to live here, you are not combining back here, right? So I had to stick my head in there and see something. And I'm disappointed in her. I was sure that Pat would have had mirrors installed on the ceiling.  Maybe for her next victim." 

I cracked my first smile in days. She knew me well.  No, I take that back. She knew me that well.

When Pat died, and I called Anna with the news, she said "I just had a thought.  Mein Gott in himmel, where did they find a casket that was lined with hot pink velvet like her couch."

Farewell, my dearest friend. How I loved every moment with you. How I loved you as a person, a friend, and as my social co-conspirator.   

This is one hole in my life that will never get filled in.