Memories. . .
The funeral mass yesterday was lovely. It was far more a celebration of her life than anything else, which is what I was hoping for and I think it's along the lines of what she would have wanted. There were a couple of things I think she would have gotten a good laugh over as well, which is a good thing.
My favorite part was seeing the picture board at the luncheon afterwards. It felt good and comforting and cathartic to see Lorie as I remembered her, smiling and laughing and just generally being Lorie. Oh, and I wanted to mention several of the pictures on the board were from Moots. :-D It was great seeing people's reactions to "wait. . .is that. . . a hobbit?"
I honestly didn't know Lorie as well as I would have liked to. I met Rich during a production of Man of La Mancha (he was Sancho, I was Antonia) about 6 years ago and we became pretty fast friends. He (and his good friends who were also working on the show) would talk about his "wonderful wife, Lorie" frequently, but for various reasons, I didn't get to meet her in person then.
My introduction to Lorie happened shortly after the show closed. Rich wasn't working at the time, so I would call him to chat while he was waiting to head to the train to pick Lorie up from work. One afternoon I rang the house, thinking Rich would be home alone, but Lorie answered. When I identified myself after a moment of surprise, she said "OH! You're the one he's been flirting with!" I was terrified. Convinced I'd offended her or upset her, I started to stutter out something, but she just started laughing and handed the phone off to Rich, saying "it's your girlfriend". After that, if she would answer the phone, we'd chat for a few moments, each kidding the other about Rich, or sharing things we knew would make the other giggle or illicit a groan from Rich.
When Rich got a job downtown, he and Lorie started going to Starbucks every morning for coffee. I bumped into them and after several mornings of chance meetings, we all realized that this particular shop was in the middle of all three of our work places. Soon, it became commonplace for the three of us to get together for coffee in the morning. Well, I would get a coffee. Rich would get a venti misto (or a mocha if he was treating himself) and Lori would get either a tall soy late or an unsweetened black iced tea (depending on the weather). The Baristas actually had the drinks ready when we'd get to the counter most mornings. It was a great way to catch up with each other and keep tabs on mutual friends.
The timing is a bit fuzzy, honestly, but either right before the Coffee Cabal started or close to it's inception, Lorie was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. I don't even remember who told me, honestly, but I remember thinking "well, it's not good, but it could be worse." I wanted to do something, but Rich forbade me to send flowers. I knew she liked LotR (to put it mildly) so I found a life-sized stand-up of Frodo. I think he's still guarding her bookcase, but I could be wrong. I got the most lovely and hysterical-laugh-filled thank you call for that.
I got to know Lorie more and more as the months went on. We found out we had a lot in common, ranging from fanfic (I do Harry Potter) and theatre, to musical tastes, love of animals, fantasy, literature, and a fondness for embarrassing Rich (which is really fun and rather easy to do). We started sharing bits and pieces of personal information and I started to really think of her as MY friend instead of just Rich's Wonderful Wife.
I was very sad when she finally stopping coming in to work (and for coffee) last month. I understood, but I kept hoping that after the next round of chemo she'd be back as usual. I still met with Rich almost every morning, and generally the first topic of discussion was the Lorie update. I kept convincing myself that it wasn't too serious. . . hell, even this morning I was half expecting her to walk in the door and crack a joke about the funeral mass. It was easy to believe she was fine, because she always sounded so up-beat and Rich was doing pretty well. Even the knowledge that they had chosen hospice as the next logical step didn't phase me. I was convinced she would recover, because damnit, that's what she should do. It wasn't until I noticed that Rich wasn't coming to work or answering e-mails at all, that I really realized it was serious. Even then, I think I was in denail until I got the call saying she was gone.
Lorie gave great advice, great hugs, and a great amount of love to me. There were a couple of times when I thought I was going to lose my mind either from work or home related ills and she would listen to me rant and rave for a while before either offering sympathy or advice, or both if she thought it was warranted. She wasn't afraid to tell me when she thought I was making a mistake or making an ass of myself, for which I will always be grateful.
I don't really have a specific memory I associate with her. I have her smile and her laugh still ringing in my ears, where I hope it continues for a long, long time. I have her friendship with me, which I will continue to cherish until I see her again. I have coffee at Starbucks, which will always have a chair at the right center table for her in my mind.
My favorite part was seeing the picture board at the luncheon afterwards. It felt good and comforting and cathartic to see Lorie as I remembered her, smiling and laughing and just generally being Lorie. Oh, and I wanted to mention several of the pictures on the board were from Moots. :-D It was great seeing people's reactions to "wait. . .is that. . . a hobbit?"
I honestly didn't know Lorie as well as I would have liked to. I met Rich during a production of Man of La Mancha (he was Sancho, I was Antonia) about 6 years ago and we became pretty fast friends. He (and his good friends who were also working on the show) would talk about his "wonderful wife, Lorie" frequently, but for various reasons, I didn't get to meet her in person then.
My introduction to Lorie happened shortly after the show closed. Rich wasn't working at the time, so I would call him to chat while he was waiting to head to the train to pick Lorie up from work. One afternoon I rang the house, thinking Rich would be home alone, but Lorie answered. When I identified myself after a moment of surprise, she said "OH! You're the one he's been flirting with!" I was terrified. Convinced I'd offended her or upset her, I started to stutter out something, but she just started laughing and handed the phone off to Rich, saying "it's your girlfriend". After that, if she would answer the phone, we'd chat for a few moments, each kidding the other about Rich, or sharing things we knew would make the other giggle or illicit a groan from Rich.
When Rich got a job downtown, he and Lorie started going to Starbucks every morning for coffee. I bumped into them and after several mornings of chance meetings, we all realized that this particular shop was in the middle of all three of our work places. Soon, it became commonplace for the three of us to get together for coffee in the morning. Well, I would get a coffee. Rich would get a venti misto (or a mocha if he was treating himself) and Lori would get either a tall soy late or an unsweetened black iced tea (depending on the weather). The Baristas actually had the drinks ready when we'd get to the counter most mornings. It was a great way to catch up with each other and keep tabs on mutual friends.
The timing is a bit fuzzy, honestly, but either right before the Coffee Cabal started or close to it's inception, Lorie was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. I don't even remember who told me, honestly, but I remember thinking "well, it's not good, but it could be worse." I wanted to do something, but Rich forbade me to send flowers. I knew she liked LotR (to put it mildly) so I found a life-sized stand-up of Frodo. I think he's still guarding her bookcase, but I could be wrong. I got the most lovely and hysterical-laugh-filled thank you call for that.
I got to know Lorie more and more as the months went on. We found out we had a lot in common, ranging from fanfic (I do Harry Potter) and theatre, to musical tastes, love of animals, fantasy, literature, and a fondness for embarrassing Rich (which is really fun and rather easy to do). We started sharing bits and pieces of personal information and I started to really think of her as MY friend instead of just Rich's Wonderful Wife.
I was very sad when she finally stopping coming in to work (and for coffee) last month. I understood, but I kept hoping that after the next round of chemo she'd be back as usual. I still met with Rich almost every morning, and generally the first topic of discussion was the Lorie update. I kept convincing myself that it wasn't too serious. . . hell, even this morning I was half expecting her to walk in the door and crack a joke about the funeral mass. It was easy to believe she was fine, because she always sounded so up-beat and Rich was doing pretty well. Even the knowledge that they had chosen hospice as the next logical step didn't phase me. I was convinced she would recover, because damnit, that's what she should do. It wasn't until I noticed that Rich wasn't coming to work or answering e-mails at all, that I really realized it was serious. Even then, I think I was in denail until I got the call saying she was gone.
Lorie gave great advice, great hugs, and a great amount of love to me. There were a couple of times when I thought I was going to lose my mind either from work or home related ills and she would listen to me rant and rave for a while before either offering sympathy or advice, or both if she thought it was warranted. She wasn't afraid to tell me when she thought I was making a mistake or making an ass of myself, for which I will always be grateful.
I don't really have a specific memory I associate with her. I have her smile and her laugh still ringing in my ears, where I hope it continues for a long, long time. I have her friendship with me, which I will continue to cherish until I see her again. I have coffee at Starbucks, which will always have a chair at the right center table for her in my mind.