The way you were always reading mysteries, and always the end first.

The way you dialogued with the cats, so cutely voicing their imagined responses in that same high-pitched voice as babies adam and jody’s imagined responses years ago.

The second most beautiful sound in the world; you’d laugh til you cried when your husband stubbed his toe, fell down, or walked into something.

The way you could start and sustain a conversation with ANYONE.  On the plane, in the grocery store line, at the beach, in an elevator, in the cancer center waiting room.  It would begin with a kind remark about someone’s clothes or a question about someone’s eyeglasses, and go anywhere from there, often eventually including everyone in the room or area.

The caring you showed with elderly and handicapped people and elderly and handicapped animals.

The phms library kids and chs seniors you adored and adored you.  The library kids you said loved to help find what they were looking for, when they didn’t know what they were looking for.  And especially kids who were bullied, depressed, upset, or had no friends or social skills.

In school, the way the faculty would look to you to voice what everyone was thinking but was scared to say.   When you spoke at meetings, it was with so much passion, everyone would listen.

That you had no ego, and everyone knew it, whether elections, awards, compliments, then crediting someone else.

When you were frustrated, and instead of cussing, you’d say, “cuccahyodees.”

The way you played big sister or family referee.

Your presents.  my shares of the Celtics, the Rick Dees song direct from Rick Dees, the ‘scrotum’ outtake direct from Family Feud’s Richard Dawson, the bricks from Boston Garden and the Berlin Wall, the Ted Williams card, but mostly your “I love you, Alan.”

Your coupon basket and return receipts.

Your little obsessions;Murder She Wrote,Northern Exposure,Monk,NCIS,The Closer,QVC, Bill Clinton,JFK Jr.,Jeanne Bice,Joan Rivers,Jackie O,Lady Di, Agatha Christie,Sue Grafton,Peter Gethers,Joanne Fluke,Janet Evanovich

How you’d sneak your “big boy” money, hiding his overdrafts, tickets, and credit card bills from me.  How you handled your “baby” those early years when he was Mr. Student.  And how you’d always ask the kids the serious questions I couldn’t.

Your ability to dance.  Your inability to sing.    The single sweetest sound in the world was you singing, whether the upbeat Billy Joel or moody Roberta Flack you loved. Always full voice, without a care, oblivious to any listener, hitting not one note, flat as the belief of the world pre-Columbus.

Eating lobster with you.  And making me take the eyes off  first, so he couldn’t see you eating him.

How close you were with so many people.

Your glunking.  As exquisite as you were, even when we met, you walked with the delicacy of a jackhammer.

Seeing Nosy sleeping with you.

You in your little volunteer Las Robles outfit.  I hated that place because of what they did to you, but you would only hear of helping.

Jody and Adam calling Mom.

Your funny knees and the most beautiful face in the world

That you stayed with your moron husband whose heart is broken, because he never told you these things. miss