A single line. Her name, plus the date of death and her age at the time. The mortuary, crematorium and cemetery name took up more characters than the official declaration of her life’s end.
Nothing personal about accomplishments or adventures during her 68 years of life. The 4 expressions of condolence below that solitary declaration were from those who knew her from her last 25 years or so as a remote freelancer. Three of the four missives indicated never having met her in person.
Is this it? Is this the culmination of a singular life? A woman alone, but not focused on loneliness; a busy, strong, positive soul striving to look outward? A fiery, independent, confident journeywoman expressive and opinionated, yet adored?
After our rocky inauguration two decades ago, we became conciliatory, followed by a tenderness I’m not sure she ever really noticed. Every two years or so, one of us would start a message or email thread that would go on for days, even weeks. She helped me with branding and career encouragement; I offered her assurance when her personal life would sometimes take an unexpected turn.
Admittedly, I never met her in person. I was nearby once but didn’t want to bother her. Now I wish I had. I’m sure she would have graciously entertained, and I would have gotten to see the vibrant smile up close, hear that lovely voice, feel the sweeping draw of her attentive gaze – overwhelming, even in photos online. I could always tell that she would be one of those few whose presence was so enveloping that it would seem almost smothering. I don’t mean that in a bad way – what I mean is this: when her attention was on you, it would be as if you were the only person in the room. This is what I imagined, anyway. And the prospect of that can be overwhelming.
That’s why I’m feeling so bereft at the lack of personal address at her end. Those of us in the industry at this level – individuals working mostly from a home studio – knew her online persona as lively, ferocious and loving. Nothing done halfway. Every day either the most fabulous or the most frustrating, her expression the most Zen, the most exuberant or the most furious.
I know her family and IRL friends have a right to privacy, but those of us far away, who knew just a slice of her life, are perhaps wanting more. Even the one notice I found that was more than a single line was boilerplate, not at all personal, clearly “written” by AI. She would’ve hated that.
I would like to think that her death wasn’t alone, and the lead up not as spare and lifeless as the thudding single line announcing it. I do hope someone held her hand as she slipped away. I hope, wherever she is now or will be, is a place of peace and contentment.
Nothing personal about accomplishments or adventures during her 68 years of life. The 4 expressions of condolence below that solitary declaration were from those who knew her from her last 25 years or so as a remote freelancer. Three of the four missives indicated never having met her in person.
Is this it? Is this the culmination of a singular life? A woman alone, but not focused on loneliness; a busy, strong, positive soul striving to look outward? A fiery, independent, confident journeywoman expressive and opinionated, yet adored?
After our rocky inauguration two decades ago, we became conciliatory, followed by a tenderness I’m not sure she ever really noticed. Every two years or so, one of us would start a message or email thread that would go on for days, even weeks. She helped me with branding and career encouragement; I offered her assurance when her personal life would sometimes take an unexpected turn.
Admittedly, I never met her in person. I was nearby once but didn’t want to bother her. Now I wish I had. I’m sure she would have graciously entertained, and I would have gotten to see the vibrant smile up close, hear that lovely voice, feel the sweeping draw of her attentive gaze – overwhelming, even in photos online. I could always tell that she would be one of those few whose presence was so enveloping that it would seem almost smothering. I don’t mean that in a bad way – what I mean is this: when her attention was on you, it would be as if you were the only person in the room. This is what I imagined, anyway. And the prospect of that can be overwhelming.
That’s why I’m feeling so bereft at the lack of personal address at her end. Those of us in the industry at this level – individuals working mostly from a home studio – knew her online persona as lively, ferocious and loving. Nothing done halfway. Every day either the most fabulous or the most frustrating, her expression the most Zen, the most exuberant or the most furious.
I know her family and IRL friends have a right to privacy, but those of us far away, who knew just a slice of her life, are perhaps wanting more. Even the one notice I found that was more than a single line was boilerplate, not at all personal, clearly “written” by AI. She would’ve hated that.
I would like to think that her death wasn’t alone, and the lead up not as spare and lifeless as the thudding single line announcing it. I do hope someone held her hand as she slipped away. I hope, wherever she is now or will be, is a place of peace and contentment.
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