Since high school, I have had the same core group of friends. We used to call ourselves, semi-ironically, the Sexy Seven, but since then we have expanded to include significant others (like my husband, John, and Jess’s wife, Nicole), roommates, and more. Most recently we welcomed the first member of our second generation, Jess’s son.
Twice a year, we go to one friend’s vacation home to play board games, go boating, and watch terrible movies. We were in the middle of a massive email chain planning that, when I learned that my friend Jess died unexpectedly. She leaves behind her wife and one-month-old son.
What do you do when somebody you’ve known for half of your life, and whom you expected to know for the rest of it, too, suddenly disappears? Maybe you wander around in some kind of fugue state and feel like you’re losing your mind. Maybe you go through a personality shift and transform from solitary introvert to clingy extrovert, making any possible excuse to be with other people. In the past few days, I’ve spent every waking moment with friends who knew Jess, with my parents, sisters, grandmother, and even my aunt and uncle.
How am I doing? Not as mopey as you’d think, but weirdly turned up to 11. My friends and I have an email chain going (as usual) where we’re sharing memories of Jess, and they are inevitably funny and brilliant, like her, so I go from laughing to crying a lot. Other than that, I’ve barely been at my computer. I don’t want to be alone. I went to my sister’s house to organize her winter clothing, just so I could be with somebody I love instead of being alone.
Honestly, I didn’t want to even post about this on my blog. How crass is it to use my friend’s beautiful life for #content? But I wanted to let you know why I didn’t post on Friday, won’t be posting tomorrow, and I’m honestly not sure when I’ll be ready to post again.
In the meantime, I bought a pack of 20 rainbow cards and envelopes, and I’m in the process of writing an embarrassingly affectionate letter to each of my friends and family members.
I would encourage you to do the same. Don’t wait until tragedy strikes. You never know how much time you or your loved ones have left. Drive for hours to see them if you have to, because it could be the last time. Tell them you love them until it gets weird. Live in the present, because that’s all we’re guaranteed.
Photo: Jess and I on my wedding day. She could always make me laugh like this.
5 Comments.
It is always hard to lose someone close, and the wound never totally heals. What you should be doing right now is exactly what you are doing — those things that help you cope and recover, even if they don’t involve your reader community. Take as much time as you need. We’ll be here when you come back.
“How crass is it to use my friend’s beautiful life for #content?” It’s only crass if you use it crassly, and this isn’t crass. This is anything but.
It’s not crass at all, Lauren. I can’t imagine anyone reading your
heartfelt and, frankly wise post thinking such a thing. I say wise,
because the last paragraph contains some important wisdom. Lives can be
fragile things, an accident, a sudden illness, and more can so easily
end a life, including ones own. If you know someone is dear to you, held
precious, and loved by you, well, it’s really wise to let those people
know that. We never know when we might lose someone dear to us, it can
so easily happen out of the blue, and so suddenly. Same can be said
about our own lives, they are such fragile things.
I strongly
suggest that you and the others on that email chain, save it, print it
out on acid free paper, and all keep copies of it. Could be you’ll want
to reread it at some point. Also, it would be nice to have so you could
one day hand her son a copy.
Telling stories, recalling events, especially the funny ones, is a good, healthy way to mourn. Tears shed honor your friend.
If
I may make a suggestion, I’d recommend that the people dear to her
write some letters to her son. Perhaps multiple ones to be opened at
different ages as he grows up. It would be a good deal of work but I can
only imagine that having that opportunity to learn about the person his
other mom was would be a precious gift to him.
Please feel no
guilt about not posting. Self care is vital, as is being there for your
friends and dear ones, along with them being there for you. Take all the
time you need. Those of us who loves this blog will still be here no
matter how long before you feel up to and want to post once more.
Laurencita! I am so sorry to hear about your loss. Thank you for sharing it so we can learn from what you’re learning during this sad, sad time.
My condolences Lauren. I just saw this and I’m glad you were able to start feeling better at Otakon.