The first thing that penetrated my consciousness was when life changed in the blink of an eye, it was always the result of a devastating blow. And my life, as well as that of my husband, David, had just changed irrevocably. A Philadelphia police officer called to inform me my best friend Nora was randomly gunned down, an innocent bystander of a drive by shooting. She died leaving me all of her earthly goods and custody of her two babies: an aging Doberman named Nadia, and a six-month old daughter Lucy. I took several deep, calming breathes and told myself to center. Convinced I had myself under control, I called my husband, or at least I tried to call him. My fingers fumbled on the key pad, hitting the wrong numbers three times before finally completing the call and summoning him to my side.
I went through the next few weeks feeling like a warrior in a computer game, being directed by an inexperienced gamer. As if from afar, I saw myself being pushed along, jerking to a predetermined destination, coming temporarily to a stop and then swerving away to alight someplace else: the morgue, the police station, the lawyer, the courthouse, the undertaker, the bank, the store and back and forth I went. The sword I brandished was no match for the hydra we call the legal system. For every head I severed, two more appeared. Finally, the clock would chime 5:00 pm and the game shut down for the day.
I would drag myself back to Nora’s condo where David and my new family awaited. Nadia met me at the door, her tail wagging so swiftly I thought she might take flight. Her joyful yelps woke up Lucy who demanded to be fed. David would come up behind us and place his arms around my shoulders, nuzzling my neck and enfolding me in a long, gentle hug. Our hellos said, we would eat, and prepare to walk to the dog park.
This was our family time. We functioned as a unit, David holding Nadia’s leash and me pushing Lucy’s stroller. We all felt lighter on these outings than when we were anywhere else and it was the highlight of my day. One night, on a whim, I ran into a dollar store and came out carrying a gaudy yellow balloon covered with colorful smiley faces which I floated in front of Lucy’s face. She smiled, giggled, and flailed her arms. For one brief second, I felt peace and contentment. I thought there was a chance this whole thing just might work out. The feeling didn’t last long but it was a start. That night, I entered the park with a genuine smile on my face. Eventually of course, Nadia let us know she was ready to go home. We dragged our feet on our homeward trek, aware we would once again have to focus on our transition.
David and I spent long nights sharing our feelings and making plans. Only with David could I show my sorrow, uncertainty, fear, and anger. We talked about everything – getting Lucy through the adjustment period, what we should have her call us, when we should tell her about Nora, etc. We also planned the daily minutia of our future: we would need a bigger car, I would move my business office to the basement so Lucy and Nadia could have a nursery, we would hire my retired mother and step father to watch Lucy a few hours every morning, and somehow, some way, we would make sure Lucy’s current baby sitter and only male role model, Grandpa Frank, remained an integral part of her life.
When bedtime arrived, I would lay down willing myself to relax and feigning sleep. Once David’s breathing became regular, I would slip out of bed and prowl through Nora’s apartment pawing through her things deciding what to keep and what to donate to charity. Tears ran down my face as I went through her jewelry box, discovering the shooting star necklace I had given her the afternoon we saw the galaxy show at the Planetarium. I leafed through her photos, sobbing at the sight of the two of us together. My whole body stilled when I picked up the instant photo of Nora as a small child with her parents, the picture so faded her family’s features were worn, making their faces appear masklike. Nora had always been a private person and it just felt too invasive to read her diaries. Instead I hugged twelve years of her life to my chest and lovingly marked them for safekeeping.
Nora had not wanted many material possessions and there wasn’t much to gather. Her parent’s steamer trunk was definitely a keeper, as were the colorful nursery wall hangings made by members of her sewing circle to celebrate Lucy’s birth. A riot of styles and colors, they were all unified by depictions of fish, representing Nora and Lucy’s Pisces sign. As my eyes swept around the nursery, I could feel Nora’s presence and decided to recreate Lucy’s bedroom in her new home.
The somber, melancholy days crept by until it was finally time to bring Lucy and Nadia to their new home. David’s brothers came up early to transport our new belongings. While I entrusted them with Nadia, I could not bear to part with Nora’s ashes so they made the journey with David, Lucy and me. I felt every bump, curve, and pothole as we inched along the highway. Finally, I breathed a sigh of relief when we rounded the last bend and I could see our home, surrounded by shade trees bursting with colorful leaves. Lucy woke up and fussed a bit when I first carried her into her new home and I hoped it was not an omen.
Three months have gone by and we are adapting. The four of us continue to go for evening walks – down to the walking bridge where Nadia repeatedly leaps into the water to retrieve a stick. She will play fetch as long as David’s arm will hold up. Meanwhile, I point out the sights and sounds of the various seasons to Lucy. We manage to see ‘Grandpa Frank’ once a month, sometimes in Phili, sometimes here in the mountains.
Our extended families immediately enveloped Lucy and Nadia in a great big communal hug. We have our pick of baby sitters and we’ve even started a new Halloween tradition around Lucy. It all started innocently enough. David was in costume, practicing for his upcoming performance in Cats. He got down on his knees behind Lucy and began swaying. I snapped their picture just as he was looming up behind her. I texted the picture to our families and everyone wanted in on the action. Relatives started showing up wearing costumes or carrying props and demanding to have their picture taken with Lucy. The whole thing came to a head on Halloween when they all did a reverse trick or treat: They dressed up and came over bearing food and demanding a photoshoot with their new baby. My eyes watered once again, but this time with gratitude as I saw Nora smiling down on us, thrilled our daughter had become the center of our first annual Halloween party.
As for the four of us: Nadia took to her new home immediately, reveling in her newfound freedom to run through our seven acres. Lucy is also starting to thrive. She quiets down contentedly when David or I arrive to comfort her. She giggles a lot and makes funny noises which mean something only to her. She can sit up now and is starting to crawl. Nadia is never far from her side. I rest easier knowing our gentle giant would become a muscular killing machine, if called upon to protect Lucy.
David has started telecommuting three days a week so he can share time with Lucy on his breaks. He says he likes being a father and would like to have another baby someday.
I run my flex-time personal gift shopping business from home, working when Lucy and Nadia are at mom’s. The longing for Nora is starting to subside. I will always miss her but I can handle the pain now.
I’ve become the keeper of Nora’s memories. I’ve bought her favorite movies, books, and cds. They are all stored in her parents’ chest. I walked through Philadelphia taking pictures of Nora’s favorite haunts. And every night I sit before the fire and write and write and write. I write about things Nora liked, about things she did, things she thought and things she felt. I write about her wonderful dry sense of humor and her gentleness. I write about her loyalty and her quiet courage and her intense love for Dobermans and her daughter. I am working hard to present her in all her complexity. I say I am doing this so one day, my daughter can know her other mother. Most people applaud my efforts. Only David and Mom remain silent. For they understand deep down inside, I am preserving Nora’s memory for myself more than for Lucy. Regardless of how normal or well-adjusted I seem to be or how well I appear to have adapted, I am still not ready to let go.
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