Concept: When I think about Grace Baldauf, I think about a golden blanket. A soft, woven quilt to weather the coldest of winters. A cover of warmth that not only protects you from the chaos of the world but practically glows with sunlight.  

Grace has been in my life since I was 14 or 15. Strangely, I cannot recall how we first met. Instead, we simply orbited around the same space for a long time. I just know that one day, I looked at her, and I realized that I had found someone who was both pragmatic and lively, brilliant and patient, soft and unwavering in her values—I found someone I deeply respected. I remember thinking that Grace had a lot of wisdom that I needed to absorb—throughout our decade-long friendship, I have had the honor of learning so much from her gentle-steadfast nature.  

When we were teenagers, Grace and I organized a small club of sorts called “Food Crew.” I genuinely don’t know how our odd, little group came together, but suddenly every week me, Grace, and our two friends Allene and Alexa would meet at different restaurants. Each week, we would try new foods from various cultures, ordering several things from the menu and sharing them so we had the opportunity to taste everything. There was not much to do in our sleepy town, and we had little to no money to spend on our escapades; however, with Grace, I got to honor my sense of adventure and rediscover Chapel Hill. We explored the winding slopes of our city, walking around the arboretum and through Franklin Street. We hummed in appreciation when we tried injera, Ethiopian flatbread, for the first time and laughed until we cried when I walked in on our waitress on the toilet at our local grilled cheese establishment. We giggled throughout our AP Comparative Government class and baked a very adorable deer, fondly named Bertie, for our yule log competition in French class. The day of prom, we laid out a quilt in Grace’s living room and drank pretend champagne—then, we tried to sneak into the Gimghoul Castle at night, only to dive back into the car screaming. Our voyages at that age were small and sweet, but I loved the way I got to dream, explore, and marvel at the wonders of our community with Grace. She made everything sunnier—she helped me see that even the most innocuous moments could be a celebration and an adventure.

When we went to college, Grace moved to Ireland while I stayed in Chapel Hill; however, the distance did not dilute our friendship. Despite, my chaotic nature and poor texting habits, Grace always reached out to me—continually showing up in my life with a startling gentleness. In my freshman year of college, my dad had a stroke leaving half his body paralyzed. It was during this time that I finally understood how truly remarkable of a person Grace was. I came home one day after a long evening of being at the hospital, tending to my family, and pretending to not be suffocating, and when I walked through the front door, I saw a vase, filled with bright yellow flowers. I vividly recall the bright green stems, and the way my mother softly smiled when I read her the card. Grace had sent flowers to my family’s house.

I remember thinking I didn’t even do anything to deserve this. I was never as attentive and consistent as Grace always was to me—I wanted to be because I love her so much, but I was just a mess and always struggling. But I didn’t need to earn her love. I didn’t need to be anything more for Grace to care about me. She is one of the core people who have taught me that love can just be given. That there are people in this world with hearts so abundant and overflowing, with minds so generous and tolerant, and hands so soothing and tender, that they will love you simply for who you are, and not what you do for them. And in that enduring, unconditional love, I found healing and the drive to practice the same loyalty, peace, and unfaltering patience that Grace has always shown me.  

Another moment that cemented my respect and devotion to Grace was the kindness she gave me from 2021 to 2022. Like most people, I struggled during the pandemic. I felt like every moment of those two years was a conscious decision to live, despite not wanting to—and there were several nights, I wavered and once failed in keeping that decision. I lost a lot of community during that time which is okay. Many people do not have the capacity, tolerance, or stability to support someone throughout a mental health crisis and that does not make them cruel; however, Grace was not one of those people. She continued to reach out, visit, and support me even though most days I was hollow, crying, or destructive. I was so embarrassed that people saw me in this state because I wanted to be someone strong, but I felt I couldn’t exist as anything, but a simple manifestation of my sorrow. But when I looked at Grace, the embarrassment was washed away because all I found in her was respect, understanding, and patience. She did not regard me as something fragile, careening towards inevitable failure—she looked at me as if she saw the totality of me. Not just someone who was very ill, but also someone who was worthy, and fun, and positive, and bright. Someone who I used to be. I didn’t feel like all those things during that time, but the way she treated me made me remember that I was more than my mental illness. And I carried that with me in every step of my recovery.

After I went to a trauma rehabilitation facility in 2021, Grace paid for a plane ticket to Georgia in Europe in order for me to spend the summer with her. Honestly, that summer was a blur. I was still so sick during that time, but I had finished rehab and I thought I was supposed to be healed. But instead, I was highly sensitive, destructive, angry, and completely heartbroken. I wore all my feelings on my skin because I did not have the capacity to regulate myself. Everything felt sensitive to the touch, explosive and volatile. It continues to confuse and amaze me that Grace does not resent me for all the moments on that trip where my dramatics, my grief, and my desperation for someone, anyone, to listen to how much I was hurting overtook evenings and nights that were supposed to be fun, exciting, and light. Though so much of my relationship with Grace is us acting like ridiculous, chaotic gremlins, laughing at ourselves, and getting way too drunk, it is so special to me that we can have both highs and lows—and when those lows occur, I am not punished or seen as less than for having a moment of need and negativity. I know how infrequently one meets someone who can truly be with you throughout both the peaks and troughs of life, without judgment, hesitation, or resentment. It is a unique treasure that needs to be cherished.

Now that I am so much healthier, I have been putting a lot of work into the things that triggered me or I struggled with while I was in a state of sensitivity. It is because of people like Grace, who witnessed the ugliest and most obnoxious pieces of me, and still loved me despite that, that I can look at those flaws and maladaptive tendencies and actually heal them. It’s no one else’s job to facilitate and manage your own development and healing; however, it is so powerful to have people in your life like her, who can see your worth when you cannot—because their unyielding acceptance of you can act as a path that you walk down in order to find your own peace with yourself. Some people don’t have a person like Grace in their life, so they have to chisel out what self-acceptance looks like from nothing; however, the love of my community, and of people like Grace, were teachers in my path of recovery.

 I am worried I will never be able to return the vastness of the love Grace has given me. One, because she has been with me through incredibly intense, tumultuous experiences, and to me, her presence was invaluable. What she did for me was so great that there would never be an instance, a favor, and a request that could honor how truly grateful I am to have had her in my life during those times. In addition to this, Grace is reserved, careful, and thoughtful about how she reaches out for support. Whereas everything is constantly overflowing out of me from my mouth, and my heart, and my soul, Grace is far more composed. But, despite this, her heart is much bigger than mine. And though I want to pour love into her with as much ferocity and devotion as she has done with me, I fear I could never compare for she is just more giving. And so, I must simply learn from her, continue trying to meet her warmth equitably and make sure she knows that she is seen. I want Grace to acknowledge that she is daylight, and she makes life so much brighter. I want Grace to know that I appreciate each of the instances she has been patient, soft, and forgiving with me. That I understand, and I will never forget, how rare, profound, and special of a person she is.

Happy Birthday Grace. I hope you know that you are my sister.