If you’ve been a long-time follower of this blog, or if you know me in real life, you know who Grace is. She walked into my life freshman year of high school where I saw her at the school bus stop for the first time. She swore I gave her a dirty look, but I give everyone dirty looks, so I don’t remember this. She insisted over a decade later that at the time she’d first met me, given how I looked at her she never would’ve thought in a million years that we’d be the close friends we were then. So since our graduation in 1994, she went on to college at UC Berkeley and I went to UCLA, and if possible, I think we got even closer. I flew up to visit her a few times and attended her graduation there. The she moved to New York for work. While there, she met the love of her life, who lived in London, so the plan was that after their long-distance relationship, she’d move to London after marrying him. I complained about her moving farther and farther away, from 5 houses away in high school to the planned move out of the country. The last part never came to fruition, however, because she died from complications of leukemia. She did marry her man in secret in New York, although her actual wedding ceremony was planned for later in the year. I was to be one of her bridesmaids. On the day of her funeral I hand-carried her bridal bouquet, made by the florist she’d selected and designed it with that morning before my flight, to New York and her husband placed the arrangement in her hands at the wake. That’s the Cliffs Notes version, which leaves so, so much untold.

I attended our clairvoyant Rebecca at the coffeehouse workshop last nite (with Mr. W in attendance for the first time). I asked what my friend Grace was up to. Because Rebecca first picked up on the wrong Grace, she went through a few verification details next to make sure we had the right one. She started by saying she sees a “2” and a “6.” I drew a blank. She asked how long it’d been since Grace had passed, and I quickly added 10 years to the year we graduated high school and said, “2004.”

Aside: In late 2003 or early 2004, Grace and I had been musing about attending our 10-year high school reunion together. She’d said she would only go if I go, too. When her leukemia relapsed, I had said sadly to my then-boyfriend that I didn’t think she and I would be going to our 10-year reunion together. “I have a feeling that instead of being at the reunion, I would be attending her funeral.” I had hoped to be wrong and it seemed I would be granted the gift of inaccuracy when she found a bone marrow donor match and was prepared for transplant. She and her (secret) husband made plans for after her new “birthday,” including the adoption of a child (leukemia had rendered her infertile, over which she had cried bitterly). Before new marrow can be infused, the old sick marrow had to be completely destroyed so as not to infect new marrow, and this is done by nearly lethal amounts of radiation, after which treatment the patient will have no immune system until the new marrow “takes.” Grace did not survive the process; the radiation virtually dissolved her lower intestines and she ended up with a massive infection that her body was unable to fight off before the new marrow could take root. I will never forget that phone call. On the day of our 10-year reunion, I was in New York at Grace’s funeral.

I hadn’t realized that it had been 6 years since Grace’s passing, but that would explain the “6.” I wasn’t sure what the “2” meant, and Rebecca moved on. She covered her abdomen with both hands and says she feels pressure there. Lower area. She asked what Grace died from. I said “massive bowel rupture.” We had the right girl. Rebecca said Grace is a funny person; she’d be quiet for awhile but when she said something it was meaningful and usually funny. I have clear memories of Grace on a couch or in my room, silent in a conversation with others, and then at the right time, coming in with a hilarious (often sarcastic) comment. She got funnier as she got older. Rebecca said that at the point of passing, Grace had been in a lot of pain. (True; I had even forgotten until now that the doctors induced a coma in an effort to make her more comfortable, but she still hung on for a day. It took Grace’s mom and husband, each holding a hand with her as she lay supposedly unconscious, saying to her over and over again that it was okay to let go, they’d be fine, she can go to the light, it’s okay, until Grace finally released. A friend said the mother saw one tear slide down Grace’s cheek as she left.) According to Rebecca, despite the obvious good lack of pain upon Grace’s passing, when she did finally leave her body she had thought, “That’s all? This is it? It’s over?” She couldn’t believe that her life was really over and that she wouldn’t get to go back and finish the plans she’d made. This made me sad, because I know she never gave up fighting. Rebecca said that Grace does like where she is now, however. “She says everything they say about this place is true. She keeps showing me these beautiful flowers she’s surrounded by. Really vibrant colors, red, blue, yellow…” I totally pictured the introduction of Robin Williams’ character to the Other Side in “What Dreams May Come.” Rebecca quieted and seemed to be receiving more information, and then she chuckled. “She knows about your situation at work,” Rebecca started off explaining, as I thought, What situation? “She says…[Rebecca stops and laughs then composes herself to imitate Grace’s indignant tone]…’Who IS that woman?!’ ” I drew another blank. Rebecca asked me on her own this time, “Do you know what woman? She’s with you at work, and she says, ‘Who IS that woman?!’ ” Rebecca may have said something about a “large woman,” but I can’t be sure. It suddenly struck me Grace is talking about a new addition to my work life who drives me insane with the most incredible common-senseless acts, jaw-dropping ineptitude and lack of evidence of brain presence. As I exclaimed “OH MY GAWD!” and turned to my court reporter, who happened to be there last nite, and whispered the name to her, Rebecca was saying, “She says, ‘How can you deal with that?’ Haha! But she says it’ll get better.” Which is exactly the kind of thing Grace would say if she were around in person to hear all my gripes or see this for herself. At another coworker’s strong suggestion, I had started a log a couple of weeks ago recording events in case my supervisor wanted specifics when I finally lost it. Rebecca said that Grace keeps showing her these vibrant flowers, red and blue and yellow. She says they look round, similar to carnations. I had no idea what she was talking about; Grace’s bouquet was lavender roses and babies’ breath with green belles of Ireland. Rebecca says Grace is very insistent on her telling me about these flowers to the point where Rebecca’s getting chills from the image. She almost urgently described them over and over, balling up her hands to show me size, pointing to a powder-blue purse on the table and saying the blue was a little darker than that. *blink blink* Rebecca said to tell her when I figured out what that means.

As the readings moved on to other people, I thought to pull out Grace’s funeral card that I always carried in my purse. I flipped it to the back to see the date of her passing. October *2*, 2004. There’s the “2” involved with her passing. Now, to figure out the flowers…