Painful firsts

 When someone you love dies, you have to get through a number of painful firsts--the first time you have to do something alone that you used to do together. There are big things, like birthdays and holidays, but there are also innumerable little daily things that just break your heart clean in two.

My very dear friend, Pat, was tragically killed in a freak accident last week. This is the same Pat who came out to help us cover the high tunnel three weeks ago, when she scampered up the scaffolding just because she'd never done it before. And she was out two weeks ago to have a socially distanced dinner to celebrate the sweet corn harvest before Jane and I left for our vacation up north. Pat reached for life with both hands. She was kind, honest, loving, funny. She and I connected immediately when we met at MCC 15 or so years ago. She was my chosen sister, always game for anything--bonfires, Mexican train, sauerkraut making, high tunnel covering. She just retired in May and was having the time of her life with Nancy and us, coming out right in the middle of the week, which she could never do while she was working. I looked forward to decades of more adventures with her. She was so full of life that I still can't get my mind around her death. 

This is a painful first because every time I did a blog post, I sent a text to Pat to let her know I'd done it. Most of my friends get notification through Facebook, where I post a link to the blog right after I've written it. Pat didn't do Facebook. She would read what I'd written and text back, "Great post, bdow!"

Whenever I sent a paper letter out, she'd email, "What a great surprise to have a letter from bdow in the mail today!" She was a huge fan. 

She was so excited that I had the post about the high tunnel up the next day so she could show the pictures to her parents when she visited them on Monday. 

Today is my first post that I won't text Pat about. She won't read it and text me back. And it breaks my heart clean in two.

So here's to you Pat. I'll never make another pie for you, but I'll never make another pie without thinking of you, hearing your wonderful laugh, and your voice saying, "People would pay THOUSANDS of dollars for this!"

Pat eating raspberry pie for her birthday last September