My Aunt Patrice was the most beautiful and glamorous woman I've ever known. Ever since I was a child, I felt a special kinship with her - we shared a love of style, beauty, laughter, good food, and family. She rejoiced when I got my ears pierced in fifth grade, she gushed over my senior year portrait photos (and raved about my purple eyeliner - a bold fashion choice for me), and she jumpstarted my (extensive) handbag collection with two stunningly beautiful Coach bags. She made sun tea in my family's backyard, knocked my socks off with her signature hot buttered rum cake, and laughed at my stupid jokes. 

She was so beautiful - and many people here have talked about her beauty - but she was also so witty and bright. I've thought about her often in my adult life, especially in the last year, as I've considered the type of woman I want to be. I channeled her when I moved into and decorated my first apartment. She is always on my mind when I wear an especially fabulous outfit. I sometimes even feel her presence when I'm flirting with someone cute. I want to be the type of person I always found her to be: raucous and poised, embodied and sophisticated, classy and a little blue-humored - but more than anything, deeply loving. 

A few years ago, Aunt Bece sent me a beautiful tanzanite bracelet. She knew that purple was my color. I wear it nearly every day. She loved me so much, and I will love her forever.

Patrice was one of my "big" sisters. We were always close from when we were little, spending hours playing "secretary" and even as teenagers dividing our shared bedroom in half because we had had an argument.  She was the first person I told when I started my period. She was free with fashion, makeup and hair advice. She was my matron of honor at my first wedding. She made me laugh, and she was always there when I needed her. She was everything a sister should be and more. I will miss her so much. 

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