Sometimes, a new friendship creeps up on you from behind and gently taps your shoulder, waiting shyly to see if you’ll bolt and run, or turn with open arms.

That’s what Marilyn Krame did to me. Not that there was anything shy about Marilyn. No, like many Jewish women of her generation, she was direct, shrewd, smart, and wickedly funny.

I was hoping to see her during my planned trip to Maryland for her son Evan’s birthday in March, but she didn’t wait for me, and instead died on February 12th. Not Friday the thirteenth; that would not have been acceptable.

I’m not sure what Marilyn saw in me, other than being Evan’s friend and her designated plus-one at events of the Jewish Studio.

She certainly didn’t have to love me. She could have seen me as nothing more than an annoyance, a babysitter she never requested and didn’t want. But she did love me, and I loved her back.

I’d drive her in the Mercedes that had seen better days, and stay in her guest room on overnight visits. We’d regale each other with stories and complain about all the things you’re not supposed to complain about.

She was some 25 years older than me, but that didn’t stop us. We shared secrets and unfulfilled dreams. We told each other the truth and refused to hide behind platitudes.

But even with our openness and unguarded moments, I didn’t really know her. There are things that can’t be said; days, months, and years from the past that must always remain in shadow. We were two Jewish women whose lives were 25 years and many worlds apart.

I know it’s not the same, but I think about Moses and God speaking panim el panim, face to face, “as one man speaks to another.” (Exodus 33:11). But just a few verses later Moses says, “Oh, let me know your Presence!”

Moses wants to know more, to know God better. But God demurs, and eventually shows Moses only God’s back while declaiming the 13 Attributes that we chant at the High Holidays.

I never really knew Marilyn Krame. Not the way I’d have liked, and certainly not for long enough.

Godspeed Marilyn. May your soul rise like a bird, flying high and higher until we no longer see you. Keep flying. We will always keep a piece of you in our hearts.

Marilyn Krame z”l