This dedication was written in 2005. I keep it here because Patti's kids, husband and I visit it. Others who knew her might as well. It has nothing to do with web design, but it has human value in my life. You are welcome to read it, and meet a wonderful person. ~Andrea
There are some people I could speak about for hours, and others I could speak with for hours. Endlessly fascinating. Endlessly fascinated. To me, Patti is both of those people. From early on in our friendship, over 30 years ago, this has been the case. We spent endless hours during our mid-teens engaged in a wide range of wild discussions, very often philosophical – often late into the night – fascinated by our explorations and what we were discovering. These are some of my earliest memories of the most potent conversations, truly bordering cosmic, and permanently sealed into my memory. I think this is the meaning of a soul sister.
This pivotal friendship is marked as one of the pillars of my life. It was with Patti that I discovered for the first time a friendship where you could be yourself, let go, relax, laugh, cry, find out how silly you could be, and find out how intelligent you could be. It was a rare and true treasure.
When we were 13, I remember her mother, Carol, pulling me aside one day, and saying, “You know, Patti loves you very much.” Her words struck me deeply because she MEANT this. This was not just “feel good words.” In fact, her words almost scared me. I felt a gravity in which she was saying something very serious, as if to deliberately set this friendship in an eternal context. Like, “do not take this friendship lightly.” After all these years, I hear those words as if spoken to me yesterday, deeply impacted by what I took it to mean about the bond inherent in friendship.
Patti was a true friend. Her influence on my life cannot be measured. I don’t think she was capable of having less than a genuinely intimate connection with any of her friends. It was certainly that way with me. It was marked by a certain expectation that I be true. She was the first person to call me on my bs, sending me a note one day that said “Actions speak louder than words.” It was a potent medicine, but one that she had the credibility to dispense – because she lived by her own words. And only because of this could she possibly expect so much from her friends.
In our late teens, Patti shared one of her passions with me, and introduced me to her work with United Cerebral Palsy and CP of Greater Boston. We spent about 2 years in high school volunteering for these organizations, and then the summer of our 17th year as counselors at the overnight CP camp on Plum Island, MA. I think it was there that my love and admiration and endless gratitude for this mighty force of a young woman cemented into my heart forever. She showed me the courage to engage with other human beings, no matter who they were, and brought me out of a smaller world into a much larger world. Gifted with the sense of seeing into the heart in others, she effortlessly gave.
As the years passed, beyond high school, beyond college, even as our lives took different paths, we continued to stay in touch. Emails and phone calls were often quick – but full and to the point – about the kids, our families, her father, my mother, work, memories, and matters of our deepest heart.
On August 11, 2005, we met for dinner and engaged in the intimacy we always knew, laughed till our eyes filled, and could have talked forever. I photographed her that day. Our parting words were how grateful we were for this friendship, and how important it has been to our lives and to who we have each become. And further, acknowledged how much we want to keep it going, even more so than ever. That was the last time I saw Patti.
Patti's life was taken away in an instant, a heart attack. Though her body may be gone she remains alive in my heart, permanently sealed as part of me. That can never be taken away. Her mother’s words were not taken lightly. She made sure this was a lasting friendship, now beyond the body and beyond the limits of our time on this earth, into the timeless dimension of the heart, which never dies.