On May 30, my friend Claudia Asbury died from lymphoma. Claudia was an accomplished Broadway dancer, choreographer, and director. She was a star that had shown brightly on the New York City stage and around the world, and who had worked with many acclaimed stars of the stage and screen. I am in awe of Claudia’s impressive accomplishments and take every opportunity to brag about her. But this column is not about her career accomplishments, it is about the love and pride among a special group of friends.
In 2001, Claudia fell madly in love and left the Big Apple for Florida, making a happy home in Orlando with the love of her life, Joyce Ducas. Here in Orlando, Claudia generously (and always modestly) lent her time and considerable talents to the local community. My partner, Vicki, and I first met Claudia at an HRC social event where she was recruiting dancers for a show. We humbly declined the invitation, but during the conversation she modestly explained that she had danced on Broadway and in movies.
We pumped her for more information, learning that she had worked with Liza Minnelli, Bernadette Peters, Francis Ford Coppola and more. We were star struck, but we soon discovered that there was far more to Claudia Asbury than a dazzling resume. At another event a few weeks later, we ran into Claudia again and we met Joyce. We immediately adored the way the two of them interacted as a couple—so comfortable, affectionate, and respectful. And funny! They were perfectly cast in their love story. We discovered that we had mutual friends, Kathryn and Deena, and not long after that the six of us all got together for dinner at our house. The rest, as they say, is history.
That first night we all got together, Deena kicked back in our lounger, hoisted her drink in the air, and declared “I have been waiting all my life to hang out with a whole pack of cool lesbians!” The “Sixpack” was born. We became an inseparable pack of friends who had the most incredible fun together, and just completely “got” each other, as couples and as individuals. I loved Claudia’s dry yet hilarious sense of humor, her single syllable laugh, her dancer’s walk, her calmness and inner peace, her talent for cutting to the chase of any situation. Claudia taught me to love old classic movies, to always wear black in NYC, to always chill the vodka, and to never let anyone discourage me from doing the things that I wanted to do.
The Sixpack took on another identity after the 2008 election, with the passage of Amendment 2. We were all devastated and we gathered to console each other. I recounted how someone I knew had actively supported Amendment 2 and condemned my relationship with Vicki as “aberrant.” Claudia was incensed, her cheeks flaming as red as her famous hair as she leapt to her feet and swore to avenge me. The rest of the pack zealously concurred. We then made a pact that the six of us would always have each others’ backs and that anybody who dared to mess with one of us would soon find that they had messed with all of us, and they would be sorry. Claudia coined us “The Lesbian Avengers.” And it was no joke. (Well, sometimes it was a joke, when we put on our Avengers masks and bracelets and “struck a pose.”)
Claudia became ill in the fall of 2009. She was in and out of the hospital, many times perilously close to death, from October through January. She was finally diagnosed with Stage 4 lymphoma and embarked on a course of chemotherapy that would last five months. Claudia’s diagnosis brought the six of us even closer as friends, and I spent precious time with Claudia that never would have happened otherwise. When Claudia was not in the hospital, she was still in an extremely weakened condition and was homebound. I developed a habit of going to see her at lunchtime, taking her whatever food she requested (usually a turkey and ham sub, with lots of extra Miracle Whip!), walking their sweet dogs, and then sitting and talking to her until she fell asleep in her chair. We talked about everything. It was wonderful. I was reminded that the absolute best thing that you can do with a good friend is talk. I will always cherish those days spent talking to Claudia.
By May, Claudia finally began to show improvement. She was declared cancer-free and Joyce planned a celebration. However, on the very day we planned to toast her recovery with our favorite French champagne, Claudia was rushed to the hospital and an MRI revealed that the cancer had, in fact, spread to her brain. Just 16 days later, she would be gone.
Through those last days, Kathryn and Deena, and Vicki and I, were privileged to witness a profound devotion between Claudia and Joyce as they neared the end of their life together. There was intimate, excruciating sorrow and grief. But there was also an amazing display of unwavering love and commitment between two partners who were passionately devoted until the very end. Claudia and Joyce’s 9-year love story was beautiful, inspiring and altogether too brief. It ended on a Sunday morning when Claudia took her last breath enfolded in Joyce’s loving arms.
For the rest of my life, I will be proud to have called Claudia Asbury my friend. She was indeed a shining star. The world will miss her brilliant light. Her friends will miss her beautiful heart.
