Grace and grit in equal parts
When Gracie was just fifteen years old, she helped deliver her baby brother, Asa. She had planned to stand by her mom’s side, hold her hand, and keep her gaze steadily focused on anything but the ensuing action. But when the doctor stepped out of the room, Gracie stepped forward. She was an essential part of bringing Asa into the world and even cut the umbilical cord herself. From that moment on, Asa was just as much hers as anyone’s. The two were inseparable. He called her his “big, big.”
That instinct to step forward, show up for others, and act with bravery–defined Gracie. At just 5’2”, she was a force on the basketball court, renowned for her killer three-pointers. Off the court, she loved to cruise the Burlington waterfront on her longboard, paint abstract portraits, write, or read to Asa. She loved spicy food, singing obnoxiously in the car with her mom, fishing with her dad, and chocolate chip pancakes with strawberries and Nutella.
Known for using her loud voice unabashedly and fearlessly to advocate for the abused, the unheard, and the hurting, Gracie planned on using her college scholarship to further her ability to help others. She was pursuing a degree in psychology with aspirations to work in either addiction treatment or child psychology. Yet her own battle with addiction was a source of deep shame. She did not see “nice girls” from middle-class families in her community facing addiction, and the stigma only deepened her pain and isolated her.
In her wake, Gracie left behind a community of beloved friends and family. Marcella and Destiny, her two best friends, and Hunter, her soul mate, carry on her memory. Hunter’s younger sister Maggie was Gracie’s honorary little sister. She was just thirteen when Gracie passed and was deeply affected by the loss. Maggie went on to write a paper about Gracie that was published in the House of Congress, as well as work as a Narcan ambassador for local schools. She has since been nationally recognized for her overdose awareness advocacy.
Her mom, Amy, misses Gracie’s loud laugh, her smell, the trail of paint she left all over the house, and her long, soft hair.
On the last day of Gracie’s life, she spent dinner at home. Her parents had cooked her favorite dinner. After eating, she spun Asa around the dining room, the two siblings whirling into one of their classic impromptu dances. Then she got in her car and drove away. When she parked, she took a single pill, went to sleep, and never woke up.
Even in her absence, Gracie’s force of nature is felt. Three people have credited her as the reason they sought recovery. Two of them are still alive today. Her story continues in the lives she touched, the voices she lifted, and the love she gave so freely and fiercely.
Gracie’s mother, Amy Riley, provided the information for this narrative.
August 25, 2000-June 2, 2022-Age 21
Portrait Artist: Jeremy Hebbel
Narrative Writer: Livia Cohen
