This time last year I would have already received a Valentine’s card from my friend Donna. She was already gone, but I didn’t know it yet.
This year I must content myself with reading her card from last year. The actual letter is safe in New Jersey, but I have a copy on my computer, too.I remember, at the time of her passing, being struck by how kind my friends and family are.
– The friend who told me the news and later, attended the memorial service and recounted it to me
– The friend who had dinner with me when I arrived in Boston the night before the funeral, when I didn’t expect anyone to be able to meet up with me on late notice
– The friend who let me crash at her and her boyfriend’s apartment
– One of the career services people I knew who saved me from awkwardness after the funeral Mass; drove me to the cemetery, which was farther from the church than I realized and which I would not have been able to reach on foot; and dropped me off at a subway station so I could catch my bus back to New York
– The two friends who called me when I was in subway after the funeral to find out how it went
– My sister, who thoughtfully got a Mass card for Donna’s family
– My parents, who were supportive
– The friend who knew Donna too and with whom I could share stories
– The friends who sent me comforting words
Today I remember the envelope her Valentine’s card came in, with its pink script and matching pink postage stamp and pink return address label.
I remember sitting in her office two summers ago and her leaning forward with her whole body and laughing with her eyes all squinched up.
I remember sitting at my kitchen table and speaking with her on the phone before leaving for France.
I remember sitting in her office as a college senior, talking about the future.
I remember walking home to my dorm and talking to my college roommate about how awesome Donna was. I must have just had an appointment with her, and I can’t imagine what she would have said to leave me with that kind of enthusiasm.
I remember sitting in bed at night in Paris and reading her letter by lamplight and thinking, “Someone out there is thinking about me.” It made me realize how much value you can bring to someone from afar.
Today I think about her family and the people she touched.
Today I say to her, as I did a year ago, “Thank you.”