The following is a wilfully artless piece of writing. I don’t often create those, but if you’re going to judge that, go away now. If you’ve lost a loved one and understand writing through the grief, carry on.
This is a goodbye from me, to my friend, who took her own life last weekend, on the 12th of January. Sometimes we need to create for the sake of connecting, and this is all I’ve done here. Maybe one day I’ll say it better. Right now, I’m feeling very sad. I’m thinking of her family, who lost a beautiful daughter, sister and mother that day, and remembering our friendship. That’s all.
My friend never fully accepted her place on “the goddess list”: a list of women we admired, first written down in our late teens. The original Goddess List was all her idea. She was always on mine, and I was always on hers. We even joked about it again in recent years; it was something neither of us had forgotten. Tara, I hope you’re somewhere where you’re able to accept it now.
The Goddess List
You didn’t want to age gracefully,
Rising wise from youth, like Audrey.
Like Sylvia, you got out: refused to grow
Old at all. And even though from our youth I know
Bettie was the original alternative model,
You could’ve held your own in burlesque halls.
You insisted I was the Winona Ryder one,
While I envied your steel sharp Dorothy Parker tongue.
No one would dare to tell you to “pipe down”.
But you couldn’t shake the bad ones, kept them around:
Like Marilyn, fragile and childlike, not seeing
Your own worth as a person, that just by being
Who you were, you brought light to life.
You had a spark, but damped it down inside.
Now I’ve sat here writing sorry lines awhile –
So dreadful that I hope they’d make you smile
If you could see them from where you are.
They say when people die they shine like stars
Or angels, who can watch us from above.
I don’t know about those things, but I know love
For friends who simply knew they’d had enough.
The ones who only saw that life was tough,
And not the beauty in themselves, and in the world.
You’ll always top my Goddess List, lovely girl.
Beautiful and heartfelt Kate. You were lucky to have each other, and you still do.
Take good care. Nicky
Feeling my last reply didn’t work so doing it again. You can always delete one of them:-)
A beautiful and heartfelt poem Kate. You were lucky to have each other it seems , and you still do. Take good care. Nicky
Thank you, Nicky. Having real friends is the greatest thing. Three or so years ago Tara worked with my mother, and when they were both talking about their “Kateys” – my mom saying about how her daughter moved to England, Tara saying it about her friend who did the same – and realised I was the same person, and on facebook, apparently Tara was so happy she cried. And when my mom told me all of this, then I saw Tara’s friend request on facebook I jumped up and down and squeaked I was so excited
That makes her death even sadder, that I could only speak to her for three more years, but I know we valued being present in each others’ lives. That’s what counts!