We lost my dearest cousin, Minna, a year ago. Her death caused great grief among her siblings and their families. I have no words to express how I myself felt then, and how I feel now.
She was not only a cousin, she was my BFF.
We grew up and went to school together in the hometown of our mothers, who were sisters and each other’s BFF, as well. They gifted us with twin watches on our grade school graduation day. In those years, “inseparable” was how we were described.
We went our separate ways after college. She immigrated to the US, but when I was there briefly for my master’s degree, I took a 26-hour Greyhound bus ride from Chicago to meet her in New York one summer.
There were many intervening years when we didn’t see each other, but whenever we did, the years slipped away. I can’t remember a day without giggling when I was with her. We’d find humor in almost everything.
Each time she came home for official busines, it was an unwritten rule that she’d stay in our place, with me and my family. I’d take a leave from work, cancel all appointments, and postpone my book deadlines, so we could go shopping (she was an incorrigible shopper!) have a massage, go to the spa, visit a dermatologist, swing by the coffee shop, and watch movies. We’d hire a van so we could travel to our little town and visit loved ones and the graves of our parents.
“I have to open some bank accounts,” she declared in one of those visits. To my utter shock and surprise, she put them in both our names, and left the passbooks with me.
“What?! You trust me with your money?!”
“I trust you with my life!” she said, and we giggled.
Minna had formidable credentials under her belt—a postgraduate degree from a big university, where she lectured; EVP in a huge NYC bank; plus, plus, plus. But when we were together, we regressed to those innocent days when we had nothing.
In 2016, Tony and I flew to California to visit son #2 and his family. Without my asking him, JB booked our flight to New York to visit Minna. What a precious gift! She took us around and we recorded our excitement in photos.
Little did I know that this would be my last time to be with her.
Staring at the above photo today, I could hear her voice, “I trust you with my life!”
That life ended last year—but only on Earth. I will meet her again in the home of the God we trust. There we will giggle the hours away and enjoy our unending life, teeming with unending grace.
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