Another year later, and I still feel sad about it.
But in a different way. It’s not something I think about as often anymore. I realize that now. I suppose that’s normal though, healthy even. A coping mechanism, but a beneficial one.
Janet’s death rocked my world, in various ways, but I can’t live my whole life in the shadow of any one event, even something as tragic as the sudden death of a close friend in the prime of her life. And so I’ve “moved on”, in a sense, while still trying to preserve and dignify her legacy, and the memory of our friendship.
But too much introspection here would be selfish, and so instead, one of my favourite Janet-stories:
In grade one, I lived in a Toronto neighbourhood that had a large proportion of uneducated immigrant families. Although many people did not understand a word of English, they nonetheless lovingly attended their children’s school events as often as they could.
One evening, just before a school concert was about to start, the janitor went to the front of the room and reminded everybody to please place their litter into the appropriate garbage bins.
Nobody understood a word he said. Everybody applauded politely.
Miss you Janet. I wish I could still talk to you, a lot has happened in two years. Some things I’m sure you’d jokingly tease me about (uh, moving to Texas) but in other ways you’d be proud of me, happy for me. I know I’d have things to both jest and celebrate about you too.
I owe you a lot. In retrospect, it’s more obvious now than ever. I’m sorry I didn’t realize it at the time, or thank you for it. But I don’t think you realized it either, you were just being you, doing what you did best – being a friend to people who needed one.
You were always a good friend to me, and I’m a better person for having known you. Thank you for that, for everything.
