But not quite.  In fact, Nancy and I have always been completely different in looks and personality.   Our differences never changed but as we have gotten older, we’ve learned to appreciate the differences – rely on them, really.   We have been the completely other perspective to each other’s certainty.

“Nancy, when did you get so funny?”

“I’ve always been funny, Robin, you just never had a sense of humor before.”

Tomorrow will be 1 year without hearing her voice, although her laughter plays in my head daily.  I don’t sob great big tears anymore, just quiet trickles before I fall asleep.   This loss, her loss, was never one I contemplated.  I wasn’t prepared, none of us were.

NANCY ANN SOUSA

DECEMBER 2, 1963 – FEBRUARY 21, 2010

EXCERPTS FROM FUNERAL MASS EULOGY

Nancy used to pick me up at the airport when I would come home for Christmas.  On the way home from the airport one time, she excitedly told me about her two goats, Hoot n’ Nanny.  She said she had tied big red Christmas ribbons around their necks just before leaving to come get me.    As we drove in the driveway, these two big goats ran up to the car, much like any family dogs would do.  The bright red bows Nancy had described to me were now tattered rags.  She looked at them, laughed and said, “Oh yeah, they’re goats – guess they ate their bows.”  I think that pretty much sums up Nancy’s approach to life.  She had an uncanny ability to create the perfect scenario, the happiest of situations.  But if it didn’t work out exactly as she planned, she shrugged her shoulders, accepted what life gave her and made the best of it.

Nancy had a nack with animals, too.  Aside from the two goats who didn’t know they were goats and would have to be lead out of the house after they’d followed the family dog into it,  there was the flock of turkeys each with the name of the Holiday meal they were assigned to.   I think the last one was named Easter, but I can’t really remember the order in which they were eaten.   Then there was the rabbit who thought he was a cat, and the cats who thought they were puppies, and the poor puppy Duncan who wasn’t sure about much of anything.

And then there was Baxter:  Walmart dog of the year and  L.L. Bean plush stuffed animal toy– in two sizes no less.  It didn’t matter how many times she ran through the list of tricks he could do – the looking pitiful and the looking MORE pitiful was my favorite – I never got tired of seeing him perform for her.  Baxter was as smart, and as unique as Nancy.  He was a perfect companion for her.

Aside from knowing more about curtain styles than anyone I ever knew, she had an uncanny ability for choosing the perfect gift.  It didn’t matter if she had never met them, if you gave her a few details about a person, she would come up the perfect gift for them.  I can’t tell you how many times I availed myself of this special talent.    As a matter of fact – and I think I’m not the only one who did this – I would make sure I saw what gifts she put under the tree for the Yankee swap.  Didn’t matter what it was – it was always the gift everyone wanted.

In my life, I have had the very unique opportunity to meet some incredibly intelligent people.  But, none of them, smarter than her.  She knew more grammactical rules than a veteran English teacher, she knew where all the penny slot machines were in Vegas and she knew exactly when to cash out when you were winning on one of them.  And, when it came to medical stuff – Wikipedia couldn’t hold a candle to her.  Hands down, she was the smartest person we are all ever likely to know.

She really was a force of nature.  Wherever she lived, she celebrated her surroundings and when she was done, she moved onto the next adventure.   The party didn’t started until Nancy got there, and the laughter got louder once she’d arrived.   Her laughter, the loudest.

Nancy had so much depth to her, one week wouldn’t be enough to describe it all.  She choose who she shared which secret with, in perfect confidence that you would accept who she was just as she accepted who you were.   She could tell you exactly when you were taking yourself too seriously and tell you when you needed to take yourself more seriously.  The whole nasty bit of it told to you in kindness.   As my sister-in-law, Susan, said the other day, Nancy didn’t have a mean bone in her body.  She didn’t.

I’m not sure why Heaven  needed Nancy.  Maybe Heaven’s Newsletter was in need of a talented editor or maybe they were planning a Shrek Marathon and needed her to explain to the other angels the subtle nuances of those films.   But, whatever the reason was, why ever  they needed her, I know that our loss is definitely their gain and that they are very lucky to have her.