Molly

The world is a bit dimmer now. My sweet baby cousin Molly died last week. I say “baby” but she was, in fact, a grown woman with babies of her own. But when I was growing up, she was one of my very own, real-life baby dolls.

I wish I had pictures of her with me to post from when she was a baby, but my mental picture is a dark-hair, dark-eyed, happy baby wearing smocked dresses. She was a ballerina. We saw her perform in the Nutcracker, and I was never more proud the year she was Clara.

All the girl cousins and my aunt Mary Beth (who doesn’t age so she just looks like one of the kids) in about 1989.

I was proud to have this beautiful, loving, wickedly funny woman in my family. Her laugh was infectious and her hugs were tight. I haven’t seen her in almost three years, thanks to COVID and her two young boys keeping her busy, and I regret so much not reaching out to her more than the occasional text. But isn’t that the way life goes?

I can’t stand to think about everyone who she leaves behind. Her two boys, her husband, her brother, her parents, her cousins and aunts and uncles and dozens of close friends. To know Molly was to love her, and I’m so lucky to have had her in my life.

Rest in peace, sweet girl.