Trigger Warning for discussions of suicide
One year ago, one of my closest friends committed suicide.
She was truly one of the best friends I have ever had. I mean that not (just) in terms of closeness, but in terms of quality. I have known few people wiser, more caring, more generous, and more supportive than she was.
It’s particularly interesting to think that she’s the reason this little blog exists at all. I started it because she encouraged me to. I’ve always been the kind of person who needs good, hard, supportive pushes to make big decisions. And she was the kind of person who, if she thought I could do it, I knew I could. I can’t say with any certainty that without her, you’d be able to read this site now. And I can’t even begin to imagine what my life would be like today if that was true.
I wish that I had been able to send her a copy of Yes Means Yes when it came out. I wish that she had been here to read my Yoko Ono series, and to call when Yoko actually emailed me — she would have been one of the very person people I’d have thought of to tell. I wish that she had been able to listen to the Beatles remasters, because I think she would have loved them. I wish that she was going to find out along with the rest of us how Lost will end. I wish that she was still here relaying her funny stories, and giving me advice when I don’t know what to do.
But it’s not something I can change.
I miss you, J. Knowing you, you’d probably laugh and ask why on earth I’d choose a Macca song. But while most of the specific words don’t fit, the general sentiment does. I love you.