MY FRIEND JANE #2

I'm only now understanding the depth of what Jane meant to me.  Anyone could pull up our old texts and see love.  They would see friendship and support.  It was articulated, openly and often.  But I am feeling it now, a profound loss.  It hurts.  My heart actually fucking hurts.  What is that all about?

Usually before we would go for a walk or a coffee, I would have a short list of things to discuss or tell her.  Here's one thing that happened that I can no longer tell her because she doesn't walk on Earth any longer.

Yesterday, my 10-year-old daughter was going through the dirty laundry in search of pants.  She doesn't care that they are dirty, she wants to wear that particular pair today.  In the pile there's a pair of my unwashed period underwear.  These things...how do I say this?  They trap odor, okay?  My girl is pulling things out and then yells, "something smells like...DEAD FISH!"

Jane would have loved that story.

MY FRIEND JANE #1

 My friend Jane died yesterday.  I knew her for 25 years.  I sat with her for four hours on Sunday morning.  By then she was non-verbal.  We had to guess what she was feeling based on the depth of the furrow in her brow.  On Friday evening she was still talking, although not much.  She kept having to close her eyes and rest because her head was dizzy.  The cancer was in her zygomatic arch.  I sat with her and held her hand until she fell asleep.  Before she slept, I told her that I heard chinstrap penguins take 10,000 3-second naps every day.  She whispered, "wow, that's interesting!"  I am gutted.  I'm going to miss her.