It has now been six months since I flew to Memphis to spend the final days with Susie, my dearest, beloved friend of 60 years. Those final days will always be etched in my heart. We simply laid on her bed holding hands, sharing memories, me all along shedding silent tears. OnJanuary 15 she took her last breath; I kissed her and helped her husband prepare her for the morticians to take her lifeless body away… Susie, my most cherished friend, was gone…Susie, the smartest, kindest, most humble person I have ever known—Susie, a person who simply loved…

I have lost many dear loved ones, both family and friends. But it was Susie’s passing that has impacted me the most, and on a number of levels. First, simply the raw pain of losing her, realizing we will not be sharing our lives into our golden years. Not a day, nor an hour, goes by that I don’t feel that pain. Then there is the inevitable question, “why Susie, why now?” And then I ask myself now more than ever before, “how can I live the rest of my life, however long or short, in the most meaningful way?…how will I be remembered?…what will be my legacy?

My children and grandchildren are the most important part of my life. I do my best to follow up the words“I love you” with action, spending as much quality time with them as possible, with loving them simply and unconditionally. I have made my share of mistakes in my daughter and son’s lives, mistakes that couldeasily haunt me until my dying day. But what good does it do me or them? Over the years I have learned to forgive myself, to live as humbly and kindly and simply as possible in my walk.

But what about my legacy? When my body leaves this terrestrial planet, and my spirit moves on to a heavenly realm, how will my children, my grandchildren, remember me? Yes, they will have no doubt of Mom’s and Nana’s unconditional love. But what will they remember about BA Austin? I found the answer I would like this past May. I made two trips, one to NYC to see a once-in-a lifetime art exhibition, the other to Salzburg, Vienna, and Prague on a classical music tour. With my love and passion for art and classical music, both experiences touched me on a visceral level. I don’t remember the last time I genuinely laughed so much, smiled so much, teared up with joy so much…

Sometimes in life I think we forget who we really are, what things in life make us tick. I know I have. With these two extraordinary, magical experiences I found “me” again. I am a person who is passionate about laughter, passionate about being quirky, laughs until I cry. I am a person who is passionate about art and music, who deeply “feels” the beauty of certain classical music and art masterpieces. I am a person who breathes in beauty around me. I am a person who simply enjoys just “being”. Each are a taste of the divine. Yes, I pray this will be my legacy…

Susie, my life-long dearest friend of 60 years, passed away January 15th…

Susie, the little girl with long brown curls and the cutest dimples
Susie, who I spent so many Saturday mornings with watching cartoons with a little coffee in our cream and sugar
Susie, who I played piano duets with for twelve years under the tutelage of Miss Walker
Susie, who I climbed aboard the train with to go to camp in Virginia for four summers
Susie, who I boarded the plane with to go to tennis camp in Pennsylvania
Susie, who I boarded the titanic SS France in NYC to travel Europe for six weeks
Susie, the smartest person I have ever known
Susie, the kindest and most humble person I have ever known
Susie, forever my dearest friend

Susie visited me in May, 2016. I have lived in San Diego throughout my adult life. Susie has lived in Memphis where we grew up. She looked healthy, full of life. Three weeks after she returned to Memphis she called to tell me she had been diagnosed with fourth-stage ovarian cancer. Being a doctor and a professor at a medical school, she said those words matter -a-factly. She proceeded to tell me she was starting chemo. I couldn’t speak; her words weren’t registering, or I simply did not want to believe I was hearing them. Tears welled up, but I did not cry. Suzy would not have wanted that.

In September I spent a week with Susie— going to chemo, drinking coffee, watching Hallmark, laughing over memories. Things were seemingly going in the right direction—tumors were shrinking…of course Susie was going to be just fine…but things did not turn out the way we had hoped, as what often happens in life…Susie called me in December to tell me the tumors had spread rapidly, that there was nothing else the doctors could do. And, in Susie’s manner, she said it matter-a-factly. After a long, frozen pause, we both cried. But no self-pity. Susie’s words were: “Betty Ann, this is not how I would have wanted it, but I have been so blessed—I have John, Will and Amy, you, and all my other friends….” No more words were necessary.

I flew to Memphis January 8, not knowing how long Susie had; I just wanted to be with her. Hospice had set her up so she was comfortable. Susie and I spent a week lying on her bed holding hands. She was growing weaker, so few words were spoken.Words were not necessary—the touch of the hand said it all.

Susie was coherent up until January 14, the day before she passed. Early the 15th her husband, John, called me that Susie had passed, that she had passed when he woke up. I went over to their home, gave Susie a hug and kiss, and helped John dress her for the morticians to take her away. Again, no words.

How blessed am I to have walked through life with Susie, my life-long dearest friend, and then to walk through the valley of death with her.

God Bless You All