September 18, 1942 - December 6, 2020
Written by Enlightened Marco
Sabrina was a true Gem from Heaven.
“In gemstones the whole majesty of nature is encompassed in minute space. A single one suffices to demonstrate the excellence of creation."
Like the beautiful gems and creations Sabrina made lovingly for her clients, Sabrina was as rare as the gems she worked with.
Sabrina’s life was a fascinating and beautiful case study on how one should carry themselves amongst strangers as Sabrina had never meet one.
All who where lucky to meet her where instantly transformed by her charms.
Sabrina grew up in New York and all who meet her never forgot her. She was a devout Catholic and lived truly by the words of St. Francis as she was a true channel of peace.
She is missed by many In the city but also by many who reside outside of New York.
If you had the wonderful chance to meet Sabrina you know how her loss is not only difficult in a year of problems but also know that Sabrina is in a better place no longer suffering, and if we are lucky she is watching over us all.
Thank you Sabrina for being our friend and we will miss you everyday!
As reported by Susan Kintner '60
My friend Sabrina died in December. She was 78, my age, and a jeweler, a photographer and an astrologist. She was a magnificent person, and I am confident she is keeping those in the after life busy.
We met in sixth grade in New York City and this is our story. I changed schools by choice in sixth grade. Most of the kids in my class had known each other since kindergarten. I was short and self-conscious and several of the tall girls made fun of me because I looked so young. Sabrina, who changed her name in her fifties from Andrea, befriended me. She offered to show me around the School, and we became good friends. For the next four years we explored the world together. My memory of Sabrina in our junior high days is of someone beautiful. She had shiny straight hair parted on the side that was always an inch above her shoulders. She was approximately five foot, four inches with a golden complexion and a slender body. She always smelled like fresh flowers and moved, even in our awkward years, with the elegance of a dancer and drew beautiful trees in art class.
In tenth grade I went off to prep school, and while Sabrina and I stayed in touch for several years and saw each other on vacations, we slowly drifted apart and did not rediscover each other until our 40th high school reunion in 2010. It was a momentous reunion for me as it was the first time in over a year that I walked without crutches having been hit by a car. Sabrina and I tumbled into each other with great enthusiasm at the reunion and did not leave each other’s company until Covid-19 prevented me from visiting her in the New York nursing home where the staff were baffled by the paralysis in her right and ultimately both her legs.
Sabrina remained sharp mentally up until a month before she died which meant I had ten good years learning about Arthur M. Young for whom she worked for many years; about the challenges of establishing a financially solvent jewelry business; about photography; about astrology and about the designing of medallions that reflected the signs of someone’s birth chart… all of which was fascinating to me. Sabrina loved to talk, and I love to listen so we spent many hours with my learning about the mysteries that governed her life.
Before Covid I could take her food and visit and we would laugh together. She was in a wheelchair but we would go to the snack shop and the aviary and watch the beautiful birds. In nice weather we could go outside. After Covid closed her nursing home to visitors, I would send her care packages and would call her every day and she would talk about her day but it was lonely and the medical staff turnover was endless. And then she would talk about the things she loved—her memories and her loves—and there were many.
So my dear Sabrina, I remember you with love and weep that your bright, beautiful self will be visiting. You gave me knowledge and insight that will help me until the day comes when I too will travel beyond. But know you will always be a joyous part of me, and I thank you.