A Birthday Card from a friend sent to Nancy (care of me) after Nancy’s death

Dearest Nancy, 

I wish I had sent this to you while you were still on this mortal coil! I bought it when you were waning and waxing and then we didn’t know this was going to happen. I thought a lot about sending it –- but it was nowhere near October and I felt superstitious sending it so early. It reminds me of one of the first times I saw you, when you had your wheelchair all blinged out with a velvet sign that had BAD ASS in sparkly writing. You and the art therapist made art in our joint staff room and sometimes I brought you coffee. I introduced myself. I had heard about you from Susanne and from the art therapists. I heard that you didn’t like socializing. You were so polite — I was expecting a grumplestiltskin. I got so lucky that you were on the wing. I took over for one of the many staff that left and I got to interview you and do those dumb tests to see if you were compos mentis or not.

It was the beginning of something very precious to me. I think we both moaned and groaned a lot—you about the awful circumstances and the dreariness of being trapped at Lieberman, and me because I was trapped too. I really wanted to make a difference—and is often is the case I had to do it by the back door—in secret. When I worked at a homeless shelter I found myself giving clients more than their allotted socks and soap and doing it quietly so my supervisor didn’t know about it. I often found myself at your door around 6 PM—you eating your dinner—or trying to and me getting ready to go home. It was a nice respite at the end of the day. Sometimes I brought you an iced tea or coffee, but inadvertently since you weren’t drinking so much so I stopped bringing you drinks.

I wish I remembered more details. I remember seeing the smile on your face light up when I came through the door. I closed the door and we could talk about whatever do you want to. I think I saw you as a mother or grandmother. I could give you a small morsel of something that I couldn’t give to my own mother who had been away for so long and who I had left behind in England while my brother took on the work of caring just like Joe did. I’ve visited a lot but then my desire for my own family slows the visits down and they came to a stop.

I miss you so much. I love you so much. I hope you and Ruth Bader Ginsberg are having some interesting chats up in heaven.

Happy birthday, dear Nancy!

Love Claire and Susan and Isobel and Henry and the remaining rambunctious kittens!