I kept my last email correspondance with my good friend who passed away earlier this year. It is saved in my "drafts" folder. Occasionally I will read these emails and remember for a little while what it was like to talk with Margie. I find that I forget. You would think, at least I did, that selective memory would make the good memories sharper. Another friend told me that she remembers Margie's laugh. I remember her serious side, her down to earth, stoic side. I know we laughed alot. But I don't remember it as viscerally as the times when she told it to me straight. Not that those times are "bad" memories.
I do remember that she would rap the table with her knuckles when she was finished her turn at Rummicube. I remember giggling with her - after I'd had my first baby - about how laughing until I peed had taken on new meaning. I remember how we went on a verbal riff about all the warnings on the baby gear and the effect it was having on my OCD. And then as she went to straighten a throw on my recliner I said, "Be careful Margie, you could trip and suffocate!"
I just realized why I was remembering her no nonsense side.
