MY 100-YEAR-OLD FRIEND

I hadn't lived in South Florida very long when I was invited to play golf with a group of women on Saturday mornings.  We would meet at one of the many beautiful golf courses in Palm Beach County, play a round, and enjoy a lively lunch afterward.

I noticed her because she appeared older than most of the players and still enjoyed playing a good game of golf.  She had such a spirit of 'Joie de vie' about her that one couldn't help but want to be part of her circle of friends.  My good friend, the former VP of Patient Services for the healthcare system where I was employed, introduced us.  Her name was Christine, but she preferred to be called 'Chris.'  Chris was very involved as a volunteer with Bethesda Healthcare System and served on the Foundation Board.  Additionally, she and her husband substantially contributed to our children's rehabilitation programs.

I managed Cornell Institute and a number of outpatient therapy clinics. A few months later, I was asked to give a speech at the Bethesda Foundation Board meeting. The Board, which had been instrumental in raising funds to build Cornell, wanted to learn more about the wide range of rehabilitation services operated by Bethesda Healthcare, Inc.

Before the meeting, I stopped by her seat to tell her 'hello.'  She quickly said to me that it was her 70th birthday, which surprised me as I thought she was in her mid-sixties.  Chris is always immaculately dressed and wearing perfect make-up, but what really strikes you is her never-ending smile and frequent laughter.  You also realize that you are the most important person she knows when you're in a conversation with her.  Few people possess that rare and sublime trait.

Chris wasn't 70 on that day ten years ago, but 90.  She turned 100 this past November.

We began a long and treasured friendship on that day.  We usually met for lunch once a month.  I often felt like a devotee to this larger-than-life, wise woman who also enjoyed telling dirty jokes.  I simply adore her.

About a year before my retirement, her husband passed away.  By this time, she had stopped driving due to losing much of her sight from macular degeneration.  She already had a live-in companion, so her friends were happy that she wasn't entirely alone after her beloved husband passed.  Someone like Chris doesn't just give up after losing someone so important to them, instead, after some time passes, they pull themselves back up and carry on.  Life doesn't defeat them in the least.

Chris married late in life, and was childless.  She owned three real estate companies in New York City, London, and White Plains.  She began dating a few years a banker after his wife died, and they married a few years later.  He had four grown children. She chose to relinquish ownership when they both realized that her real estate business might create financial conflicts with the bank.

One would expect that she would sell her flourishing enterprise to the highest bidder.  Instead, she gave each of her three Office Managers the business at their particular location.  Her explanation was that they were integral to the business's success while it was her company, so they deserved to own it.

How I miss her beautiful, smiling face, her stories, and her essence! I still talk to her, although infrequently, and distance has created a barrier to getting together. We spoke to her a couple of weeks ago after I had moved to Texas from Seattle.  I shared that I was no longer with my Seattle boyfriend.  I told her I had yet to figure out how to last with anyone.  She laughed and replied, "No, you're just a butterfly.  Just keep being you and keep enjoying life."

When I grow up, I want to be just like Chris.