We were 12 when we met and remained best friends until our late ‘30s. Rebels in a sea of conformity. Watching Evil Dead while everyone else watched Cosby. Listening to Dead Kennedys while everyone else listened to Night Ranger. Reading Oscar Wilde while everyone else read Nancy Drew. Writing sketches and jokes to crack each other up while others played sports.
She was my shadow and my light for more than 30 years. A better writer, smarter, prettier and wittier than I ever could be. Her own shadows were deeper and darker than anyone I have known and her light so brilliant as to transform a room full of people and leave all in its glance enamored. Perhaps it is apropos that hers was not a face to grow old and lose its luster. A light that never goes out in the grieving hearts of those who knew her.
Oscar Wilde wrote, “Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one’s head, and listen to silence. To have no yesterday, and no tomorrow. To forget time, to forgive life, to be at peace.”
We are all better people for having known her, flawed and beautiful a woman as she was. Human as she was. Rest in Peace, my friend. I love you. Always.