I have spent the last few weeks since learning of Debbie's passing, revisiting and basking in my many sweet memories of her and the time we shared. Ours was a friendship born from our mutual interests as mothers raising boys in Essex, and grew from quick visits during kid pickups and drop-offs into longer chats over tea with the time and openness for discussing our greatest joys, hopes, expectations, concerns, and fears, and expanding further when we enthusiastically added all things feminie to our discussions once our beloved daughters joined our family mixes. Ultimately our friendship blossomed into a close, and dearly held kind of kinship, where Debbie's friends and family became my friends and family, and my friends and family became hers, with both of us sharing the joys and successes and bemoaning the failures and losses that both families experienced. We sat together at kids' sporting events, shared logistics and worries about kids' driving and adventures, and discussed and advised when things were or weren't going well. Debbie was wise and caring, and she became my go to when I needed solid, honest advice, and she always delivered. As the years passed, we attended the Evans childrens' weddings, and two of my children asked that Debbie officiate at theirs, and we proudly rejoiced at the arrival of each of our grandchildren. I fondly remember how a few years ago, Debbie called and wanted me to come over specifically to see Paige, who was home on a brief visit, so that Paige could show me her ring, and tell me herself how she was in love, engaged, and exited to share her wedding plans. I so valued that Debbie saw Paige's enthusism and good news, as mine too. That was so Debbie.
I and my family were by far not the only ones blessed with such a warm and welcoming place in the heart of Debbie's family and home. The more that Debbie valued someone or something, the more she was driven to share it. She took no greater pleasure than to open her home that was rich with photos, and tokens of all things significant to her family's life, both past and present, with favorite foods in special bowls and platters spread on the table, or tea in pretty, delicate cups, or cookies on fancy plates, and Ed mixing drinks. The rented house in Spain during Andy's wedding quickly became a warm, welcoming Evans home filled with laughter, and the smells of food cooking. And of course, Christmas always included Christmas Eve at the Evans with Debbie's pumpkin rolls, and striped butter cookies, Ed's eggnog, and a trip upstairs to admire the huge and perfect Christmas tree laden with all of Debbie's favorite ornaments, including every decoration ever created by her children.
I am profoundly saddened by Debbie's passing, and my heart goes out to her entire family at the difficulty of dealing with such a loss. I will miss her presence terribly, but I also feel so grateful to have had her in my life where I truly got to know her, and to benefit from her friendship, love, and wisdom. Knowing her made me a better person. Debbie was a true example of the power of full, wholehearted committment to whatever she undertook, be it lovingly officiating at a wedding, trying a new recipe, or giving personal tours to the State House so that others could witness the place and work of our government that she was so proud and devoted. Debbie did nothing halfheartedly.
My frienship with Debbie was full, rich, and immeasurably important to me, as are my memories of her. She feels close whenever I have a glass of her favorite dry, red Merlot, (in an over-sized stemmed goblet, of course), or when I happen upon a beautiful, quaint Christmas card with a wise, but smiling, rosy cheeked, good looking, old fashioned Santa. Debbie will always come to mind with discussions of large Christmas stockings that need to be stuffed to overflowing with small individually wrapped trinkets and gifts; or beautiful yellow gold necklaces, and bracelets, and rubies, and custom made gold wedding rings, which are never to be taken off; red lipstick, and the same bee jelly that the queen uses to keep her skin soft; a room full of tall tapered, white candles, all real and lit, except just a few very real looking fake ones that she might catch (with a little snicker) a visitor trying to blow out; and gifts meticulously wrapped in ornate, festive paper and tied with huge, handmade, multi-looped tulle bows. Oh, and nobody was more thrilled to give or recieve a gift than Debbie, who would literally glow, and give the tiniest little giggles during, and right after the entire unwrapping process. Memories of Debbie's candle or Mary Kay parties, with a room full of chatty and laughing women and a huge Saint Bernard sound asleep up against the disply table, smack dab in the middle of the room, will always make me smile, as will Debbie's stories about the kids' year-long dig to China, resulting in the ever growing, very big, gaping hole which threatened to swallow the entire yard. I loved our deep discussions, civilized disagreements, occasional eye rolls, and bouts of hearty laughter. I've missed Debbie, and I'll continue to miss her, but boy am I ever fortunate to have had her in my life, with all her wisdom, caring, and all those rich memories that she left behind. Rest in peace, dear Debbie. You are loved, you will be missed, and you will be remembered.