Carrie was one of my first and fastest friends in Japan. She was always up for an adventure, introducing me to many of my Japan firsts. She was that extra-fun friend… the one who owned a mechanical bull because people could always use a laugh. The person who kept champagne in stock, because you never know when you might have a reason to celebrate, a practice she said she learned from her father. She hosted spontaneous movie and guitar hero nights and invited over those of us whose spouses were deployed so we wouldn’t be lonely. Carrie could find a ridiculously perfect meme for any situation. She routinely made friends watch Abby the Spoonlady on youtube and suggested we start our own band complete with a washboard specialist, spoons soloist, and someone to play the triangle. This was the same person who was deeply moved by Halsey’s lyrical ballads and sincerely appreciated complex classical compositions.
I knew quickly that Carrie was an enigmatically complex and beautiful soul. She was one of the deepest feelers I’ve ever met; she carried others’ pain as her own. Not in a selfish way, but in a way that made them feel understood and cared for. She was quick to open her heart and home to anyone in need. Anyone who knew Carrie knew that she loved her people and her pug, Buster, fiercely. She often proudly shared pictures of her nieces and nephew, and, if I’m being honest, an equal number of Buster pics. In challenging times she would mention something thoughtful Ben had done and say, “How did I get so lucky?” I think it’s safe to say that anyone lucky enough to know Carrie felt appreciated and loved.
My heart is filled with gratitude for your beautiful gift of friendship, Carrie. I will miss your silliness and sassiness, incredible facial expressions, your zest for life, scheming with you, and confiding in you. Know you are loved, dear friend.