In roughly three weeks it will be the 2nd anniversary of Muff's death.
Though the 'hole' she left behind in my heart hasn't healed completely, it is less painful than it was two years ago.
Still, not a week goes by that I don't think of her, and remember what a good friend she was to me.
She would have enjoyed being on Facebook and chatting with me about books and libraries. She would have commiserated with me through the hard financial times my family has slogged through for the past two years, and she would have rejoiced in Nick's growth and accomplishments. She was, and I like to believe still is, his godmother.
She gave me sane and rational advice when I needed it, laughed with me about life's absurdities, and we'd cry together over the loneliness she felt in not having a life partner or someone to love who could share her appreciation of books, music, Dr Who, writing, Cyrano De Bergerac and all things Irish.
I will miss her 'sagas' and her wit, the way she ate a sandwich (she tore it into bits and ate like a mouse, in small bites) the way she would poke holes in pomposity, pretentiousness, ignorance and prejudice. She couldn't bear the fact that children were going hungry when she could help, so she sponsored a child in a third world country. She also wrote to the troops, because she felt compelled to lift their spirits and let them know they were not forgotten back home in the US.
She was remarkable, talented, brilliant and a wonderful friend who died too soon.
And she lives on in my memory.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment