I met Mary when she was a working journalist, and I was a public relations professional. We had a mutual professional respect and appreciated each other’s sense of humor.

But we really got to know one another as friends when we both left our full-time jobs within a couple of years. A fondness for coffee drew us to meet-ups at Starbucks, often with Miss Scarlett, Mary’s chihuahua, along for the ride. (Truth be told, I’ve never been a pet person, but Scarlett and I developed our own little friendship over time.)

Coffee dates with Mary became a great source of therapy, and bitch sessions, for both of us. Around that time, I also reconnected with Beth, another former journo friend and friend of Mary. Before long, the 3 of us were meeting up at Starbucks weekly, laughing at old stories and developing a bit of a reputation among the baristas. Mary had a voice that carried and a vocabulary that drew attention, not always kindly. We occasionally, and selectively, invited others but Mary nicknamed our threesome the Core Coffee Club.

Mary’s health had never been great, scarred from years of hard living, but the cancer diagnosis was quite a blow. Beth and I rallied with Mary’s other friends to wage the fight. I knew Mary’s Starbucks favorites as well as my own then, so I delivered coffee, picked up essentials, shared books, and took her to and from doctor appointments and chemo sessions. I sat in the O.R. waiting room with a core group waiting to hear results of her surgery. I marveled at the generosity of Mary’s circle of friends, and still do.

May we all be so blessed.

Two weeks ago, I visited Mary as she laid in bed, attached to a morphine bolus and oxygen in an inpatient hospice house. Her words were exaggerated and often, nonsensical. I saw flashes of my friend when she rolled the word “Starrrrrbucks” off her tongue, when she told me “no one even parties with me.” I mentioned the picture of Miss Scarlett and Stella (her pups) and she exclaimed, “Stella did it.” I wasn’t sure she even knew who I was or what Stella did.

Mary was only a few years older than me but probably a lifetime more experienced, not necessarily in a good way. (If you know, you know.) I was sad seeing her decline though glad her pain was being relieved. I am also sad, though I don’t regret, the several years we were mostly estranged. For all of Mary’s good points, she had plenty that were tough to take. I wondered what she said behind MY back, and I chose to take a break. I just couldn’t take the negativity she left me with when we talked. I didn’t ghost her and told her why.

Mary was in remission when I stepped away, but I kept up with her through mutual friends and Facebook. We had slowly started meeting for coffee dates with Beth again when the pandemic closed everything down. And then her cancer returned with a vengeance. A broken hip and covid19 added to her suffering.

As her days grew short, I was grateful I could be a conduit to hospice. I visited her at the hospice house and left saying, “I love you, Mar.” Her response of “Love you, too. I say innntennnse words” will stay with me. Again, classic Mary.

A week later, Mary left us peacefully. I gathered with other friends to tell stories and remember all we loved about her. Her beloved Miss Scarlett and Stella were there soaking up all the attention and love. “Little whores,” as Mary would have cackled. It was telling that multiple friends asked where the pups would live now. (Answer: with a dear friend who loves them.)

Losing a friend, a contemporary, is not something I want to get used to, but as I get older I see more warning signs. My own health isn’t exactly ideal, and friends struggle with a variety of ailments. I certainly don’t dwell on it, but I want to embrace the lessons:

  • Take care of the paperwork! Will, trust, health care surrogate, power of attorney, re-homing plans for pets, whatever you need for protection. Hire an attorney.
  • Set aside assets to take care of you. You don’t want to be a medical orphan, and Medicare alone won’t cut it. Health care can be a cut throat business in this country.
  • Clean out the house. Get rid of junk no one wants, needs, or uses. Maybe designate a file or box of special memories for your kids. (I’m failing this one, but it’s hard knowing my kids don’t want all the mementoes and figuring out what to do with them.)
  • Let go of the small stuff. Forgive, because you’ll feel better.
  • Make amends where you need to, because you’ll feel better.
  • Assume positive intent and extend grace when you can.
  • Love with all your heart, because really, what else is there?

UPDATE: MARCH 2024**

As we have done each year, the group of friends known as Mary’s tribe gathered on her birthday to celebrate her life. We shared memories and took turns reading funny things Mary had written on Facebook over the years. We toasted her and ate cake. We laughed A LOT. Even Mary’s precious “littles,” Miss Scarlett and Stella, joined us and kindly allowed themselves to be passed to various arms.

And there is always something that makes us stop and say, “that was Mary making an appearance.” When we released butterflies one year, it was a sudden gust of wind. This year, it was the thunder that roared shortly after we left.

I feel like the tribe grows closer each time we meet, and I love these gatherings. As I reflect on the day, I am a bit in awe of the years of friendships and stories that live on in each of us. (And there are plenty more friends who couldn’t join us.) May we all leave a legacy of friends as rich as Mary did.

**With special thanks to Beth, with whom I still have coffee regularly, for encouraging me to do this.

*photo: Beth, Cindy, Mary