A few days ago, a person whom I barely know posted on this site that mentioning my aching back constituted complaining. She then asked to be unsubscribed from this blog. I obliged, sending her good wishes to which she did not reply.
Her barb got me thinking about my friend Tami Cline, who died a few nights ago. Tami and I became friends through my representation of her. We had very little in common except our regard for one another and an appreciation for beautiful art. We had many differences, including that she could afford art while I cannot. But it did not matter to her. She received me and my son into her home here in Kansas City, and welcomed me as a house guest in Colorado. When she needed a place to stay back here, she chose my home over a hotel.
I fretted over my frayed bath towels. I bought new sheets. I cleaned for hours, including corners neglected for eons. It did not matter to her. I could have wiped the fixtures in the bathroom and been done. Her graciousness knew no bounds.
Tami Cline cared passionately for children’s nutrition, her professional calling. She invented recipes for which she won a few awards. Tami never refused a request for a donation to a worthy cause, and single-handedly started a blanket give-away program here in Kansas City. She planned to formalize that program across the nation but did not get the chance due to her illness this summer. Tami entertained with sublime dedication to her guests’ comfort. She loved her family, both biological and collected, beyond compare.
I knew Tami for just over eighteen months. In that time, I never once heard her complain. Never once. Tami encouraged me to consider myself worthy of goodness. She gently pushed me towards that room in my shuttered heart in which I hide my ability to love myself. I didn’t quite get to where she thought I should go, but I hold her gentle admonishments close. I have not forgotten what she taught me.
Tami J. Cline PhD, RD, SNS, with her elegant manner and her down-home country girl disposition, changed the way I look at the world, for which I owe her an enormous debt of gratitude. I will miss her. Everyone who knew her will miss her. For a while, too, I will shoulder a few of my personal laments with a little bit more strength because of her example.
Rest well, my friend. You have earned your place in paradise.
It’s the seventh day of the thirty-fifth month of My Year Without Complaining. Life continues.
We share a mutual admiration of our beloved friend Tami. Your thoughts and words are so poignant in this time of reflection upon who and what we have lost. I vividly remember our lovely brunch last year the day after Thanksgiving when with you son and Mary we gathered for a lovely meal and great conversation. I often look back on that cold and drizzly day and remember the warmth we shared in mutual enjoyment of the people gathered round that table. Hang your plaza light bulb ornament with extra thought and appreciation this year.
I shall do so; thank you for your words. She was a beautiful person and she very much valued her friendship with you and Mary as well. She expressed this to me often. Thank you.
I feel sorry for the one who unsubscribed from here. That person will miss much more than they will ever know.
Tami wanted so much for me to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you that I feel like I already have. Your blog captures Tami for the beautiful person she was; so giving, so generous and so modest. I too miss her and will try because of your blog…. to complain less often. No promises though.
I hope one day to meet you. Tami thought so well of you. She relied on your love and support.