Reflections on a Friend

Every year, I buy myself a bottle of Veuve Clicquot La Grande Dame Champagne

It's a splurge, and I save up for it because to me, it's not New Year's Eve without it.  When I was a young girl, everyone in the old movies had Champagne and caviar for New Years and it always seemed so magical and beautiful to me.

I like it for a number of reasons. It's in a classic package with a beautiful, vibrant sunny orange label. Just looking at it on the shelf makes me smile. 

There's the anticipation. I don't have it every day. Sometimes, I don't think about it. Sometimes, though - especially on the holiday with which I most associate Champagne, it always manages to cheer me up. 

When I hear the happy "pop" of the cork, I know that beautiful, bubbling effervescence will pour out and spill into my waiting glass. 

It's not an especially sweet Champagne - the first sip is usually a dry, tingly surprise. But it's never harsh or acerbic. 

I'm always sad when I finish the bottle. I'm always hoping there's just more sip...just one more happy, bubbly bit of joy. 

My friend Lei passed away yesterday. She was the personification of La Grande Dame. She was bright and sunshiny and full of surprises. 

Like La Grande Dame, Lei was dry and sly. But never vinegary or raw. You got what you saw with Lei, and I'm much the better person for having been the recipient of innumerable Facebook messages that always seemed to start with "Now you listen, girlfriend!"  Her mission in life was to find me a retired military officer; she had found the love of her life with one – her beloved Paul.

They live in my hometown.  When Lei learned I was coming back for my class reunion, she insisted I stay at their condo instead of a hotel – even though they would be out of town at the time.  There was a beautiful bouquet of flowers to greet me, along with a fully stocked kitchen and a guest room that made the Ritz Carlton look like a skid row flophouse.

It sounds odd, but I only met Lei in person once. Yet I have felt her love and charm and compassion more times than I can count. Next to her, Champagne might as well be generic brand seltzer. I always hoped I would get to hug her one more time. 

So instead of hoarding my bottle of bubbly joy until New Year's eve, I opened it last night.

I poured a glass into a tall, finely shaped crystal flute, and I drank a toast to a fine, beautiful woman who taught me that I too am beautiful. But I’m really not – what I see is Lei's reflection - always in my heart. 

-- Pamela Porter, Dec. 14, 2013