Her Name is Gail

This weekend, my wife and I lost a friend to a senseless act of violence. I'm an emotional old fart, so trying to say this aloud just isn't possible for me. If you would read on, please allow me to share with you memories of our friend. Her name is Gail.

You will find a link to her web site in the sidebar, where you will see that Gail was an artist. I'm happy to say that I am the proud owner of 3 Gail DeLay originals, all birthday cards made just for me. I could have had a fourth had I thought to take home the tablecloth from Macaroni Grill one night last spring after dinner.

Gail was also a musician and singer. She was talented, and the little she lacked in talent, she more than made up for with a boldness I wouldn't care to attempt myself. She sang with gusto and emotion that brought smiles and laughter to her audiences.

Gail always made me feel that she was happy to see me, and at the risk of sounding like a sappy Elton John lyric, she even cried when she thought that she had hurt me.

Gail loved animals, my own dogs included. I've never seen her happier than sitting on the floor with my three labradors licking her face, unless it was when she watched me with her dog, Indiana Bones, giving my face a good cleaning as if I didn't have three of my own who regularly do that job.

My wife and I will miss the laughter, the birthdays and the music. My dogs will too.

Thank you, Gail, for being a friend.