Personal Note

Last November, we lost a very close personal and family friend, Lorrie Longo(bucco) to cancer. It's taken me a while to write about the loss, and I've hesitated sharing more publicly what I wrote since I know it does show some level of still existent grief. That said, it's from the heart, and words are meant to be shared, as are our memories of Lorrie, who happened to be one of the biggest fans of my blog! For her and all of us missing her, I'll share the following thoughts...

“When you hear that someone has died whom you’ve not seen in a long time, it’s not too difficult to pretend that it hasn’t really happened, that the person is continuing to live just as she has before, in your absence, out of your sight.” – Brother I’m Dying, by Edwidge Danticat
Last night as I lay in bed reading, I couldn’t help but think about Lorrie and my own struggles with death and dying as I read this quote. For months since her death, I’ve searched for the right time and words to honor her, not realizing that there will never be one right time, or a few perfect words to capture Lorrie. It was when I read this quote too that I understood how my personal grief has at times been stifled by distance and that putting memories and words on paper might make it all the more real. Yet, as I sit here now, far from home in the Dominican Republic, I can’t look at Lorrie’s picture without tears in my eyes – a reminder that though far away I am still missing her physical presence, as many of us are.
I feel the need to honor Lorrie with words both because of who she was to me and also for my own journey. The day before Lorrie passed away, I finally sat down to write a note I had been longing to write. I knew from my mother that Lorrie’s sickness was taking hold, and felt paralyzed both by how much I still had to say to her and by how scared I was to accept that she may never hear it from me in person. I have no idea what I wrote in that letter (that most likely got mailed from the DR on the day of her death) besides how much I loved her, missed her and wanted to see her.
I know that my letter wasn’t complete, nor will any words that I write about her be. Lorrie was not a person to be captured in words; she was a walking spirit – a cloud of love and kindness always in her wake. Mrs. Longo had always been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. Family gatherings, community events - the Longos and Bayville were one in the same for me throughout my childhood, and my memories are endless. In 2002 though, something changed. I moved back to Bayville after years away at college, living in Arizona and a year spent in Haiti. At age 23 with a little more real life experience under my belt than I could handle, Bayville was not the same and neither was I. During the10 months that I spent living at home that year, Mrs. Longo transformed slowly and lovingly into Lorrie. As Mrs. Longo she had been a close family friend and a best friend to my Mom, but as Lorrie she was now my close friend and confident.
Over those ten months she, my Mom and I shared countless hours at the soup kitchen together, many nights at the movies and, over glasses of red wine, many stories about the countless hours at the soup kitchen. Lorrie, like my mother, is an inspiration to me. She never ceased to sing my praises and resist my singing hers. The humility with which she went about her work as an advocate at the soup kitchen taught me a lot about passion, faith, and yes, joy. It also taught me a lot about life. To be with someone constantly seeking to fulfill her call beyond her career, through her retirement, day in and out, can be nothing but inspirational.
Years later when I moved to the Dominican Republic, Lorrie paved the way. Though I came here working with a small, non-profit organization, it was Lorrie who found me my first place to live, who set me up with a cell phone. While I know she would deny it, she gave me life here and there aren’t words to express my gratitude for that. On my trips home, Lorrie would joke with pride about how quickly I picked up Spanish and how much she struggled with it. With every visit home, she had more ideas for work I could do, people I should contact, activities to be involved in. To me, Lorrie showed her love with a flurry of words, ideas, advice and humility. She never forgot to remind me how proud she was of me, not knowing how grateful I was for her support and her spirit to guide me through both the good and bad adventures of life abroad.
It was during a visit home to Bayville last May that I first found out that Lorrie was sick. Just a few days before she was initially hospitalized, we were sharing the time that I always coveted most with her and my mom. Sitting in the backyard with a glass of wine around cocktail hour, I was catching Lorrie up on life in the DR while she told me stories about the guys at the soup kitchen and her family. I so cherish that time we had together as I do all of our shared time.
I find most of my memories of Lorrie mixed up in that same cloud of love and kindness that she carried with her and that was beamed outward by her brilliant smile. I could sit here and list the specifics, compose a requiem, but really I just want to remember her and invite her spirit to stay present with me for life. My tears as I write this reflect how being away has made it easier to avoid grieving Lorrie’s physical loss from my life. It’s true that no summer glass of wine shared between my mom and I in the backyard will ever go by without missing Lorrie. But it’s also true that her incredible earthly presence is one I have no doubt easily transcends the fine line between physical and spiritual. It was achingly difficult to not have had the chance to say good-bye to Lorrie in person, and no easier to try and do it on paper. That said, I think I’ll stop trying and end by completing the letter I had hoped would get to her before her death…
Lorrie, you are an amazing friend, role model, inspiration and joy in my life. Your support and cheer-leading have gotten me to where I am today and for that I am so grateful. I am also grateful for your shared spirit in all the work that we still have to do together – thanks for continuing to be a part of my life – you will always be here with me. Paz y amour, Anna