The end of the Cissy times as we knew them

Today is the last day that anyone who knew or loved Cissy Taylor will set foot in her Manchester, N.H. condo – the site of countless Derby Day parties, Christmas Eve “orphan” gatherings and other occasions of gaiety and good will. Her brother Richard, executor of her estate, closes on the condo this morning and – after seven months of valiantly executing her wishes – leaves for the long drive back to Ruskin, Fla. Last night, five of us took him out to dinner to thank him and wish him well. Suddenly, it all seems so final. I looked around the table last night at the well-wishers gathered there and thought about how it is so often one person who glues a group together, who brings them face to face when they otherwise might never meet, and Cissy was the one who united all of us present. And I thought about how easy it would be to lose touch with those good people now that she is gone. And how that would be an insult to her memory and a loss for each of us. Several of us exchanged contact information and vowed we would not let that happen. I hope we don’t. So, Godspeed, Richard, and to all of Cissy’s friends, hope to see you soon.