Death and chocolate

 Soon after I started going out with my college boyfriend I started to hang out with his group of friends a large family-like group of people who spent lots of time together. We all played out the drama of our lives, our studies, our family lives, our love lives within this group.  Most weekdays we all sat together at lunch at one big round table in the student center.

One of the members of this group was Donna. Actually, There were two Donnas in our group one was from Brooklyn and the other from Billerica, Ma.  I am writing today about our Billierica Donna. From Donna, we learned that the name of the town wasn't pronounced (as most Bostonians know ) as Bill-rikka but locally it was pronounced losing most of the internal consonants, as B' rika.

Donna was in those days ferociously smart, wickedly funny, and had something of a hard edge. I found her in those days to be a little terrifying.  We spent lots of time together within our group but we weren't especially close We reconnected several years ago through FaceBook

Donna and her daughter came for Friday night dinner, and perhaps they stayed with us when her daughter auditioned for a dance program here in New York. We had many conversations since that reconnection that made me feel close to Donna in a way that we weren't when we were in college.

Donna had grown-up sort of expecting life to not be especially good for her.  But unexpectedly she had ended up with a life far better than she had anticipated. That bitter edge I remembered from our years in college was gone. I was so moved to see the joy in the eyes of her children in the photos posted on FaceBook. A good life that of course had a measure of tribulations but with a large portion of blessings of many kinds just sort of snuck up on Donna. I loved seeing Donna living a life of unexpected happiness.

Every year on February 15, Donna encouraged all of us to celebrate Half-Price Chocolate Day. She always reminded us that it was the best day of the year.

A few years ago Donna began to have some puzzling health issues that ended up being glioblastoma. Astonishingly despite the dire diagnosis, Donna kept going for far longer than one would have expected.

I have been on the board of my building since soon after Covid hit.  During the worst of the pandemic, I created some Covid safe activities to remind one another in our building that we are a community. I organized reverse trick or treating for Halloween, we did a January gift exchange. Last year I also organized a post-Valentine's day  Half price candy building-wide chocolate exchange. Participants left packages of wrapped chocolates on the doorknobs of  their neighbors.

At our January Board meeting, I was asked if I would do another Half-Price Chocolate celebration chocolate exchange this year. While many of our neighbors were touched by the chocolate exchange, one neighbor hated the idea and has complained bitterly about it --often and in many ways.

So when my fellow board members asked if I would be organizing the chocolate exchange again I begged off. I was surprised to hear how much my fellow board members had liked the chocolate exchange. A few days after the meeting I learned that Donna was going into hospice care. I wrote to the board and told them that I would once again organize the chocolate exchange.

I thought that perhaps organizing the Half-price chocolate celebration would in some magical completely irrational cosmic way help keep Donna alive. 

 Like much magical thinking, it didn't work at all. Donna died Friday. Saturday evening I packaged up chocolates so that every resident of my building got five pieces of chocolate. Yesterday I left the chocolates at every neighbor's doorknob. As I walked along each floor of my building leaving off chocolates on each doorknob I thought about Donna.  I thought about Donna during our college years and the beautiful life she and her husband have built together. I thought about how this celebration of a tiny bit of sweetness that made up for big and little disappointments was the perfect way to remember my brilliant friend.

Last night a neighbor left me a Chinese little red envelope with a gold coin. Today another neighbor left a little Russel-Stover Valentine box with a sweet note that made me teary. I completely forgot how touching a bit of unexpected sweetness left on a doorknob can be.