Silver Trumpets : For Debbie Debbie

Debbie with the joyful, quirky spark I adore.

I opened the text this morning at 5:30am.

"Mama. Hey sweetie we lost her. She loved you so much! I will keep in touch about the memorial. Big hugs from me and my mom."

This message was from her lovely daughter Jessica. She had messaged me often over the past year or so with updates on my friend Debbie.

I met Debbie Murray around 2009'ish at the UNT Health Science Center, and from the very beginning she was one of those people I just… clicked with. We had several Debbies in our office but she was the original. So when someone would ask me which Debbie I was talking about I’d say, “you know… Debbie Debbie.” It rolled out of my mouth once and stuck forever. She always embraced my affectionate little nickname for her. Eventually, even my kids, family, and friends began to know her by this nickname.

Our birthdays are only one day apart, which we treated like a tiny private holiday. I was 35 when I met her. We were from different generations but our friendship felt completely natural. That was one of my favorite things about her. Some people make you forget age differences entirely. Debbie was one of those rare souls who could connect across any gap with people she met.

She had this wonderfully quirky sense of humor. She was a collector of unusual and unfortunate names the way other people collect seashells. The first time she plopped a list of them in my hand, we'd laugh until we had tears in our eyes. I wish I could share some but those poor humans had names that were wildly inappropriate. Ha. Anyway, she had a way of finding the odd, delightful corners of life and turning them into stories worth retelling.

Her years as a prospect researcher gave her a whole library of stories about people, and she told them with warmth and curiosity. People and their stories were ALWAYS important in her work in fundraising. Even when I started digging into my own ancestry she gave me great advice. I think she’d smile knowing I’ve put this out into the world for someone to find someday. She loved discovering little pieces of other people’s stories, and now this is a piece of hers. It just feels right.

Debbie spoke so fondly of her daughters and of her family. One of her last Facebook messages to me, unknowing that it would be her last, was about Nicki and her ‘great‑grands.’ She often posted memorials for those she'd lost and missed. Family was at the center of her heart. I could hear the love in her voice every time she talked about them. And I'm honored that she extended a similar steady affection to me as I built my own family through adoption and a later‑in‑life marriage. She cheered me on, supported me, and reminded me I wasn’t doing any of life alone.

One year, we went together to the "Empty Bowls" event in Fort Worth to support the Tarrant County Food Bank. I still have my bowl...it holds our coffee filters at home. That photo is below. She also supported St. Jude heavily and causes for people who were hurting and in need among us. And she supported local animal shelters. I even went once with her to the Humane Society when she was looking for a new, older shelter pup. I almost went home with a 3-legged dog myself, named Ilean! Ha. Thinking of Debbie Debbie brings these scriptures to mind:

Proverbs 17:22 + Galatians 6:2 “A cheerful heart is good medicine... Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.”

Over these years, we sent each other funny texts, Facebook messages, and encouragement. The last time I hugged her neck was in a hospital room in Fort Worth before she moved back to South Texas to be closer to her family. I lived over two hours away at that point but took PTO so we could have that moment.

I miss her already. I love her. But as I get all weepy I can hear her in my head telling me not to cry too hard. She’d want me to remember her with laughter and happiness, not get swallowed up in my grief. So like I do with all my friends who have gone ahead before me, I have decided to carry a little of her joyful, edgy humor forward into my own life.

Seventeen years of friendship is no small thing. It changes you. It stays with you.

Debbie would have been 75 on March 1st. So I’ll keep celebrating our almost‑shared birthday, because some connections really don’t end. They just shift into a different kind of presence.

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My photos are from an ancient cell phone so they are small and blurry but I treasure them.