Death in the Digital Age

A friend of mine died last week. She was 34. 

I am 34. My human brain cannot comprehend this. 

I can call her phone. I can text. I can hit reply to her email. 

I cannot talk to her. I cannot walk with her. 

How I Remember JW

Lunchtime walks in Madison Square Park. Nighttime eating in Chinatown. Lunch plans being made right after breakfast. 

Shopping and trying on dresses. Always too long on her - too short on me. Blue. She loved the color blue.

Her banana bread - sometimes with chocolate chips, sometimes not. Cooking classes we never took together. Seaweed snacks stashed in her desk I could never grow to like. 

In the audience at my improv shows. Even when they sucked, I

 could hear her laughing. 

Traveling in a car, on a bus, talk of traveling abroad together. Always planning her next trip. 

A pink glass beaded bracelet around her wrist. For luck in love, she said. 

I was the lucky one. 

To have someone so loving in my life. 

Thank you for giving me more than four years of friendship.