It all started when we met at an exercise class for expectant mothers. I can still see her running laps around the gym in her black leotard. After our kids were born and we both were divorced, Mary Beth made sure that our kids were not deprived of experiences. She was the driving force in scheduling and arranging camping trips, cross-country ski trips and my favorite memory of a road trip to Disneyland when our kids were about five. That was an idyllic time of fun at the park in the morning, swimming and naps in the afternoon, and then back to park for the evening light show. During this time in our lives, we set up a weekly schedule of dinner one night at her house and one night at mine so the kids could have the experience of family dinners. My son Bryan’s favorite meal was Mary Beth’s meatloaf and a huge baked potato loaded with sour cream and butter. We had so much fun swimming and barbecuing and playing games with the kids during the summer. Another happy memory was on those long summer days, a trip to Half Moon Bay to build a fire and roast hot dogs and marshmallows as the sun set over the water, then packing cold, wet kids in the car for the sleepy ride home.

 

The next big change occurred when Mary Beth left Stanford Medical Center and brought the donkey (Leland) that she was given as a going away gift to live in a small farm in Monterey County, California, where she lived until her move to Massachusetts. It was so fun listening to Leland bray for her when she came home. That was my getaway sanctuary and I spent many a weekend there relaxing, reading, bicycling and taking nature/bird-watching hikes at the estuary where she volunteered.

 

When Mary Beth moved to Massachusetts, my husband and I helped her pack up the U-Haul for the cross-country drive. We got her to Missouri and then her sister, Janet, went with her the rest of the way. When she was ill, I flew to Massachusetts and helped while she received one of the courses of chemotherapy.

 

Mary Beth was that friend you could call when you were happy, sad, or stressed. She was always there with a kind, non-judgmental ear. She was a very strong lady who I admired greatly, who never let anything stop her if she put her mind to it. And through all the years her damn hair never turned gray—it was always that beautiful red/strawberry blond.

 

I am sure that many will remember the competent and kind nurse that she was. They will remember the devoted mother bear she was to Kate. I remember the quiet moments we would sit together, her reading and me reading or crocheting, not having to say anything but just being joyful and at peace in sharing each other’s presence. I miss and will always love you, my forever friend.