Barbara Murphy and I met in the fall of 1976, when I began teaching at Martha's Vineyard Regional High School and she was completing her first year teaching there. I was teaching social studies and for Barbara, it was Spanish. We quickly became fast friends, and for all these years remained so.
We had so much laughter and fun as co-teachers, and we loved our high school kids. We were very serious about what we taught, and we had so much fun teaching it. We were also advisors for a class or two, and created a mudslide at one of our class events, where Barbara sprained her ankle. (We were so glad that it was one of us and not the students.) We laughed and carried on enjoying our classes for many, many years. Almost every Friday, after the school day was over, we would gather with colleagues at the old Ocean View Restaurant, letting off steam and enjoying each other no matter which department any of us were from. Great fun and a wonderful way to build school community beyond the classroom.
About two years ago, Barbara started to show signs of dementia. I had never experienced this illness in my family nor in my friends, so I did not have a clue on how to help Barbara. I had no idea how mean an illness it can be. For months, Barbara still communicated as we did different projects together, usually paint-by-number creations. But then, things seemed to move rather quickly and yet, not quick enough. For a while, Barbara was babbling, talking about nothing but still somewhat present. Then things went downhill fast, and soon she just looked panicked, afraid, or fearful when I would meet with her. Things were changing, and I knew that the Barbara I knew and loved and had had so much fun with was no longer there. She had left me, and yet I could not mourn her, because her body was still here. Chris, her husband, did yeoman's work because he loved her so much. And so I tried to help him out once a week. Seeing Barbara in this debilitating state was overwhelming. I hoped and prayed that she would pass soon, because she was no longer Barbara Murphy, my friend.