My high-school girlfriend, a long-time friend and encourager of my writing, died on Monday.
I had dreamed about her Sunday night, and it struck me as odd, since I don’t generally remember my dreams and I hadn’t dreamed of her in a long time. Then I received the news that she had passed away sometime Monday morning.
She was a gifted artist, loving, kind, compassionate, and wounded by life as are we all.
I am very saddened at this loss.
My sympathies for your loss. It’s my loss too, Sandy was my best friend for the last 5 years, we talked on the phone an hour or two almost every day, including a few hours before she passed. She spoke of you frequently, glad that you two kept in touch over the years, keeping friendships alive was very important to her. Thank you.
My heart is broken, but her spirit, what she gave me, will never leave me. I’ll be taking her cat (Boo, aka Kittycat) if and when she can be corralled. That’ll be some comfort I guess, she saved the cat, and it was a great comfort to her at a time she dearly needed it.
The world is a poorer place without Sandy in it, and I don’t know where I would have been without her friendship. Thank you for being her friend.
David.
David: I, too, was wrecked at the news, and I’m still adrift at the loss.
I was worried about the cat, we talked about her little cat quite often, and I’m so pleased you’ll be taking over. Thank you for reaching out to me, and I am glad she had such a fine friend in her last years.
Dreaming that dream was a great kindness, a blessing. Nothing is ever lost; your friendship with Sandy is always there and (I believe) will be there in Heaven, waiting.
Grief is ragged, relentless, and uncontrollable, devastating one with a sob from seemingly nowhere, even after decades have passed. I have appreciated Robert Fitzgerald’s grief over the loss of Charlotte. You have penned it well, as you are clearly familiar with those dark hills and desolate valleys.
Again, you are very kind. I have come to the conclusion, however, that I undersold grief.