My head is in Rhode Island today to attend the funeral for Fran, but my body must stay in California. I am so sad. Alan called Wednesday and left a message to call him back. I knew by the tone of his voice, this was not good news. Fran died the night before. Age 61. Sudden, Aggressive Cancer got her. I’ve known Fran for over 40 years.
Last night I had the most amazing dream, and it’s odd, because it’s the first memory I have of Fran since I’ve heard the news. In my sleep, I recreated the day we were at Kutcher’s in Kiamesha Lake.
The 4 of us piled in someone’s car, I don’t remember who drove and we headed out for the day. We had to have a “must stop for Lefty’s” lunch and I drove Alan nuts eating my french fries one by one by one. He said, “French fries should be eaten by the bunch load.” I was taking to long. You see, I was pregnant with Lauren, my daughter. Heartburn in the first degree if I ate too fast.
So sitting on a redwood picnic table on the grounds of the Kutcher’s Hotel after a wonderful lunch at Lefty’s, we decided what we were going to name the little bundle growing inside me, previously known as “Farkle”. I was stuck on the name Hillary. “Oh No,” was the concensus. “Why? I asked. “I will call her Hildy.’ Fran blurted, “You can’t do that to a baby!” …and so it was decided that we will name her Lauren, keeping Hillary as her middle name.
Three and a half years later, Fran didn’t like the original name I thought of for Neil and that was Quinn. Looking back, we made the right choices.
Writing this to you all has helped me to smile albeit briefly.
Thanks for listening.
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