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| 1971: Andrea at age 15, painted by my mother, Vivian Morse, on Snowden Lane |
Five days ago, I learned the devastating news that my friend Andrea had passed away while on vacation in Mexico. She was swimming in the ocean, a pastime that she loved, when, inexplicably, she drowned. I've been thinking quite a bit about Andrea this week; about friendships lost and gained, the power of internet social networks,and how fragile life is.
If it hadn't been for Facebook, I most likely never would have had Andrea "back" in my life. We grew up on the same street, in a vibrant little college town not far from New York. Her older sister used to baby-sit me, an only child, when I was in elementary school, and Andrea took up the reins when her sister left for college, sitting with me occasionally when my parents went out at night.
In the '60's and '70's, my mother belonged to a painting group that met weekly, and for one of the classes, Andrea was enlisted to "sit" or rather, stand against a tree, as a portrait subject. Two years ago, when Andrea and I first became Facebook friends, I reminded her of this portrait sitting, and she was amazed and heartened to see this painting, so many years later. She remembered how difficult it was for her, a vivacious girl, soccer and tennis player, aspiring actress, to pose, without moving, for the several hours that the class took to paint her. Even though she was being paid her "going rate" for baby sitting, she said it was one of the most tiresome things that she had ever had to do! At the end of the sitting, she also said that seeing the many different interpretations of her image was an eye-opener, and in most instances, quite shocking for her 15-year-old self, but that now as an adult she had a much greater appreciation for the quality of artistic expression.
Today is her memorial service, in a city many miles away. The snow is falling here, for the first time this year, gentle snowflakes swirling above a white blanketed ground. The landscape could not possibly contrast more to that vibrantly colored painting. My heart is heavy. I will miss interacting with Andrea on Facebook, playing our word games, and reading her comments and posts. While it seems unimaginable that she will never "speak" to me again, I feel grateful for her memory, and for this portrait.
