From Marina Obermaier

It took so long to post this Denise because I’m still struggling with the reality that you’re gone. There’s a finality to these words I’ve avoided - no follow up conversation to clarify meaning, inflection, tone. No give and take. These words, Denise, also can’t capture the reality shaking sadness that descended upon us when we learned of your untimely death. There’s a natural order to things, and losses that defy that order hurt that much more. Joe and I miss you so very much. I can’t imagine the shock and grief your family are working through. Our thoughts are with you and with them daily.

All those weeks and months we didn’t talk were wasted opportunities to laugh, bitch, and offer support. My mom’s cancer has come back. I think your battle with Cancer scared me on some fundamental level and I let the distractions of daily life put off that email I always meant to send, or that call I always meant to place. I’m sorry for the gaps. I guess I thought there would always be another time, later on, to reconnect.

When we did catch up after a long hiatus, though, it was always great. Our friendship was strong enough to bridge those gaps and we wasted no time in recriminations our doubt. What a relief! There’s an essential honesty and genuine quality to you that I’ve found in few others. A goodness that was selfless without being naive.

You gave of yourself openly, without pretense, and I think that honest approach encourages a reciprocity in how we related to you. I always felt at home with you. Never felt you would judge me but take me as I am, warts and all.

The memories will be with us always.

They may not be the most pithy, but these are the memories that stand out for me.

Your smile. The tip of your tongue would stick out between your teeth often when you smiled. It was charming. Your humor was wry.

Contrasts. There was a traditional, homey, quiet, and almost shy Denise contrasted to the counterculture, international, avant guarde artistic side of you.

Volleyball. We met playing volleyball in Forest Hills, in that time of our lives Joe and I refer to as BC (before children). It wasn’t a competitive league, but we all did our best and had a blast. I remember your powerful serve and the nickname you acquired: “Diesel.” We were not the best of athletes, and I think we suffered a good measure of teasing from our more able teammates, but we took it in stride and never let losing get in the way of our fun. The sport carried over to Freeport and we met Jack and Ruth.

Church. I remember choir performances at which you accompanied us with the Oboe. I think we even got you to sing one year! You were not proud of your voice, but it was lovely. You also really enjoy the work you did accompanying another church choir. Your genuine connection to and interest others transcended age.

You were always so great with the kids. They warmed up to and took to you though you were not as much a regular part of their lives as we both would have hoped. I think you projected a calm, an inner peace they connected to. You let them come to you at their own pace, were silly and loving with them.

Style. You loved really funky shoes. You wore dramatic liquid eyeliner – I marveled at the steady hand it must have taken to artfully apply it! I loved your apartment filled with pieces from friends and family. Homey.

You were never pretentious, interesting a real individual.

I think of hospitality and warmth. We always felt welcome and comfortable in your presence. Your creativity didn’t end with your music, I still have some home made soaps you gave me when Katchi was born…They finally just washed down to the decorative plastic baby pin you’d inserted. You were also a great cook/baker..

Eating. We shared a love of all things yummy and you were generous with the sweet care packages your mom sent you.

Gatherings. We celebrated at many a holiday party together – Christmas at our house or Jack and Ruth’s. Our friends still talk about the year you were kind enough to play carols for us on the piano…New Year’s dinner party at our house (remember Denis’ treating us to bagpipes?!)

Despite the couple of years I sang in the church choir with Charlie and Eileen, I’m not religious. I don’t have the gift of faith. I don’t have the assurance that we’ll meet again in a better place, but I do believe in energy and have to feel that your core essence is still part of our universe. Somehow that gives me a small measure of comfort. You’ve touched and enriched our lives by your friendship and music.

We love you Denise. Forever and always.