She called me a breath of fresh air. She also called me out on my shit. She took me to lunch and gifted me with pretty things. When we lived states away from each other, she wrote me long, handwritten letters. She looked me in the eye when she talked to me and every now and then she’d reach out and squeeze my hand. She laughed at my jokes, reassured me I’d be just fine when I was weighed down with worry and sadness, and she always ended our chats with, “I love you, honey.”
I wrote this about her in a blog post 15 years ago:
“I had the privilege of spending a few precious hours with Linda today, my friend and mentor. It’s so nice to know we live in the same town again – even for a short time. She picked me up and we went shopping for a bit, went to her eye doctor, then enjoyed lunch together. We ate Chinese food, and since she had her eyes dilated, she asked me to read the fortune from her cookie. I made one up that kept us laughing for several minutes. There is seldom a moment of silence when we are together!
Linda is 60 something, has blonde spiky hair (Clairol, like me), beautiful eyes and a bright lip-sticked smile. She loves big silver jewelry – the bigger the better, fell in love with her husband when she was 17, collects chili pepper stuff, loves chocolate, and reads more than any woman I know. She has some health challenges, but mostly takes them in stride. She is the only woman in my life that prays with me every time we’re together. She and I have talked and struggled through some deep stuff. She gives me wise counsel and points me back to God. She has two daughters already, so I tease her that I’m a bonus. Her daughter Corrine calls me her sister from another mother.
Linda gives the best hugs and she’s always thrilled to see me. As much as I get from our friendship, she tells me that I’m a drink of fresh water! Nobody has ever talked about me like that. The funniest thing about our relationship? We met at a garage sale! Our friendship dates back to BC – before children (mine of course – hers are older than me). She is one of my favorite balcony people. How I love and respect this woman! She affirms me and releases me to be who I am. She makes me a better me.” ~April 2005
Corrine contacted me late last night to tell me Linda passed away yesterday, surrounded by her family. I don’t know the details yet, I just know I am aching and heartbroken. It’s been hard to breathe all year, but this loss has been my greatest and I need a pause. I learned long ago not to wait to let the people I love know how I feel about them. The comforting thought holding me together right now is that there is no doubt in my mind that Linda knew the depth of my love for her. Say what you need to say. Do it now. Don’t wait.
Sometimes I Write 