by Julia Mcconnell

Created on: February 21, 2010

I remember the first day I met her.  It was on Lexington Ave.  Her shiny black hair caught my attention and then her energy and vitality was almost tangible.  

You know when you’ve met someone that is going to play an important part in your life. I can say that now because she did.  From the first day of our meeting we would never leave each others side until August 21st, 1994.

We both liked to travel and that took us from New York, to Paris, and Switzerland.  We would walk through the street markets in the early mornings in Paris and buy our food for the day. We shared so many same activities; especially eating and walking and playing in the snow.

  After the three month lease on the Paris apartment expired we moved to Switzerland.  A small village three hours from Geneva, postcard pretty.  We decided to take a long lease, five years on a two bedroom chalet overlooking the most heart breaking, beautiful mountains.

Sitting on the balcony in the late afternoon was a daily ritual.  We would sit quietly and watch the setting sun stain the snow covered mountains from the top; rose, then pink then purple. We didn’t need to talk.  When a horse pulled sled would pass under our window and the music of the neck bells on the horses sang out, she would get so excited, she always called out a greeting

 And how she loved trudging through the snow. We could not have been happier.  After nearly ten years we decided it was time to move back to New York for financial reasons.  The dollar was no longer strong and no longer provided the extra luxuries.

 So back we went, back to the town where it had all started.   We took a small apartment over looking the East River and an equally small house in Upper Brookville.  We still enjoyed the walks and of course, the food.  For us, food was a passion.  We would try anything; we were very adventurous.

I don’t know when I first noticed the change and perhaps I had guessed but had refused to accept it.  Making excuses to satisfy myself but in the end there could be no denying the change.  

A friend recommended a doctor in Roslyn.    Tests were run and a few days later, the news: cancer.   NO, no, no, I’m not sure whether the words were spoken or just in my head.  Something, I said, something must be done.  There must be something out there, someone who can do something.  I was assured; there was nothing that anyone could do.    

She had good days, where she almost seemed normal once more. But as time passed those days became fewer and fewer.  

I held her in my arms and lied that everything would be just fine. I asked her if she knew how much I loved her.  She just looked at me; words were not the language we spoke. 

When the doctor left I continued to hold her.  I was choking on my grief; never had I felt the pain, this pain of losing her.  There will never be another you my sweet Lucy.  Never, ever another you.

I buried her in the garden of my house in Upper Brookville.  A large boulder stands guard over her and the words chiseled into the rock read.;  LUCY Never Another You April 14 1984 – August 21 1994

She was the best, my sweet Scotty Lucy.   

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