Requiem for J

This is the year that I think will force the changes.

J, the friend we all worried about, who was often fixture in our homes and lives, the dependable listener, the inadvertent matchmaker, the soothing pick-me-up who never it seems was able to cheer her self up.

I wonder about you now. I know you have gone to a better place, and are now free of all those ghouls that haunted you on this earth. I catch myself wondering still, two days later, about the depths to which those demons chased you and caused you pain and fear. You withdrew from us, I think, in the last year. I sensed it and I told Swee'pea that you were shutting your self in.

Should I have knocked harder on your door? I think not. I think somehow this time you wanted to be left alone, to interact with the world at arm's length. To deal with humanity in smaller doses, in the dead of night, by slipping them tiny signs on Facebook for them to discover when they woke up in the morning.

I think you were slowly letting us go, my friend. Maybe subconsciously, it was your way of helping us stand on our own two feet without you around to fall back on.

In the end, your passing accomplished the finest moments of your best ability. People whom you love and were afraid to face, who had fallen out with you because of disappointment or frustration, who had not spoken to one another in a while, who had distanced themselves from each other on purpose or by circumstance, all came together.

You became the balm once more, that soothed the old wounds.

I know I will still miss you and shed tears. Part of me almost expects you to re-appear once more.

I love you, J. We all do. You saw the chapel. It was the biggest party of your life. I hope you liked it.

I also like your new home. I hope you do too. It's that pretty place you always imagined, with a serene view and a peaceful breeze. We piled all the flowers on top before we left. It was a pretty sight.

We're not done yet, not by far. We will remember you always.