My friend Sharon died before I could tell her that I loved her.
I hope she knew it anyway. What she didn't know is that her words of advice carried me through some of my darkest hours living at the Coast.
My friend Sharon, a fellow Pisces, left me speechless more than once. She had a way of saying things that made you cock your head to think. Subtle and sharp, at once. I remember walking into her house one afternoon to find her ripping pages out of her journal and throwing them into the fire.
What the hell are you doing?
Burning my morning pages.
Sure. Who's going to want to read this after I'm gone.
Wow. We are so different.
She was a Wisconsin-born European. She didn't seem to care what everyone else thought. And she didn't give a shit about the local leash law. She had a way of enjoying ordinary moments and creating extraordinary ones. She didn't hesitate to call you out on the lies you tell yourself. In fact, around Sharon it was hard to be anything but yourself - and not just the best parts. She told the truth about things and used her hands when she talked. She was a healer and yet suffered herself. She was as strong as she was fragile.
We got word she was sick. I took Sam to visit, sure we'd be back again soon. Maybe we could come over and read to her, I thought to myself as we left that last afternoon. Sam, as I may have shared, seems to have been here before. He seemed to know something I didn't that afternoon. He was so wiggly all day but when Sharon wanted to hold him he simply sat still on her lap and looked out the window with her. She told me he was beautiful and to enjoy him. Not to worry about the details. Not to rush. And I trust those words will carry me through darker hours to come.
We were going to visit again soon. I planned to bring chocolate. Instead, I made brownies to serve on a fish platter in honor of her, my fellow Pisces.