Annie Mancini Buckmaster

After Julie died on Monday, my friend asked me if I still wanted to have dinner on Friday. I said, "Absolutely," knowing that Julie certainly wouldn't want her death getting in the way of a good dinner party. As I looked around the outdoor table tonight, with children running around and laughing, fresh wood fired pizza served up hot, and a garden full in summer bloom, I realized that this dinner party wouldn't be happening without her. 9 years earlier, the summer before I started medical school, Julie told me I needed to meet someone she knew who was a first year medical student that she knew through literary circles. In that decade, that woman and I have become the closest of friends and confidants, a relationship cultivated and nutrtured by the skills of friendship and love that Julie taught me my whole life. I introduced that friend to another friend, who introduced her to her husband. I officiated that wedding and later that year she delivered my baby. Tonight we made a toast to Julie Fucking Mancini because, without her, these beautiful and intertwined lives that were laid out in front of us would not be. I love you, Julie. I miss you terribly. You did so good.

— Annie (Julie's niece).