She walked in Grace.
We were to meet at the Charles D’Gaulle airport, both coming in on different flights. I was late, so worried she would be scared as this was her first trip “across the pond”. No. I spotted her, casually meandering across the terminal, luggage in tow, unable to read a word in French, but with not a care or fear, taking it all in. She trusts, has faith that all is well. We spent sweet days in the City of Light. Tasting the treats of sidewalk cafés, a boat ride down the Seine past Notre Dame, Eiffel, giggling like teenagers to see the embrace of a couple in a romantic kiss at the turn in the river in the most romantic city on earth. We shared our friendship and kinship, Auntie and Niece.
She was 11 years older than me, almost like a big sister, I watched her as she prepared for a date and admired the way she put on makeup and her skinny waist. When I was 10, she called me to come over and borrow a cup of sugar (she and Grandma Gray lived next door). I told her we didn’t need any sugar, but she insisted. Actually, she wanted me to check out the TV repairman (whom she ended up marrying). She always made me feel important like that. I imagine many of our family felt loved and important to her. She inspired, encouraged, and could make you feel proud of yourself.
She was a true courageous faithful spirit, an uplifter, an overcomer of so many treacherous currents in life.
I will miss calling and hearing her pet name answer “Kukutria!” in her lovely soprano. I rejoice in the peace she has now.
She walks in Amazing Grace now. I miss her.
But we will always have Paris.
