Goodbye, Kate
Apr. 1st, 2019 01:00 amI can tell I need to write, but I don't know what to say.
My friend Kate,![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
kathrynrose, died today.
And then I sit and stare at the white space, because what could possibly follow those words, to make them make sense or give them context? What could I possibly say?
I don't know what to say. I haven't known what to say all day, sending emails, sending texts. I didn't know what to say when Allison called to tell me this morning, and I'm afraid I didn't say anything coherent. The word "fuck" might have happened. Maybe more than once? I honestly don't remember. I keep not knowing what to say and then saying something - anything - anyway. And hoping like hell it's sufficient to the task at hand.
I don't know what the task at hand is right now. Which is probably why I'm floundering.
I've been thinking a lot about found families lately. Partly because I've been reading books for a discussion club about it, and partly because it's just an idea which has a good kind of weight on my heart at the best of times. Kate was part of my found family. She was my sister. My unexpected, found, sister.
Here's a thing I learned early on about Kate: she couldn't abide a lie - she told me once that a lie would hurt her more than anything else. So I didn't lie to her, not even for politeness sake. She could take criticism well (though she was more likely to attribute that to my skills at giving it than hers at receiving - I dispute the charge) and it was nice knowing I could just speak my mind. And gosh, did we speak our minds. As soon as we got to talking, we found out that we were so alike (and also so different - she thought I was nuts for eating pineapple on pizza, for instance). (No, no I am not. :P )
She was stubborn. She was opinionated. And she was tactful... right up until she wasn't. I've never met anyone else who had the exact same social limits as me - which was a problem from time to time, as we'd both just be DONE at the same time. Heh. But never with each other. And it took a while.
She was quick to say "I love you" - and she meant it, every time. She was insightful and sweet and sharp and wicked and she got me, in a way that's hard to explain, and I got her.
She hadn't been writing much, these last few years - she said she liked having written something more than writing it, and it wasn't worth the pain to get to the product - but she'd been reading. She was one of my first readers, for almost every thing I wrote. A silly poem snippet? Off to Kate - I bet it'll make her smile. A short story? Kate should see this. A flash piece where I'm not sure if I'm clear enough? Well, if Kate doesn't get it, then I'm definitely being too obtuse. (Far more often, Kate would get it and then other folks would be confused. *shrugs* The perils of sending stuff to a sister to read for clarity is that she's maybe a little too familiar with the way you see the world).
I showed her things I never intended to show anyone else (except maybe Todd) just because she loved reading my words - all of them, even the bad ones (and oh, believe me, there are lots of those), and she always, always had something insightful to say. If not about the words, then about me. "So, feeling a little angry lately?" Yeah. Yeah, I am, Kate. Good catch. I hadn't actually noticed it myself yet.
And when she did write, oh, she had such a way. She could capture a moment, a mood, a whole scene, in so few words. You would swear she'd put in all these details, about the scents, the textures, the emotions... but every word was precise and every word was deliberate and she was just evoking those things, like a freakin' summoning spell. It was magic.
She knew how to be quiet. And she knew when to be loud. She was fierce and she was timid and she was messed up and she was neurotic and she was nostalgic and she was complicated and she was silly and she was serious and she was awesome.
We only knew each other for... six years? Seven? Ish? It feels like longer. In an email, back in 2013, I wrote "I am SO in need of more awesome people in my life, and you totally qualify. Let's be buddies. :) Also, hey, we could be some sort of weird time and space separated twins! That there sounds like a story premise... *grins*"
I feel like I've known her my whole life. I've certainly told her enough stories about my life for that to be true. I didn't hear nearly as many of hers as I wanted - there was always "remind me later to tell you the story about..." and then, well, sometimes later gets shuffled into other things. Because we could be silent for stretches, and then rapid-firing 20+ emails to each other in a day. We could text each other entirely in emoticons and then just bust out with paragraphs. She was part of my heart and my head and... and well here we are.
Lesson learned: sometimes you find your family when you're not looking. Maybe always? I don't know. But there she was, and there we were. For some very hard and very weird years.
And I've just been so very, very, very lucky to know her.
And I am so, so, so not ok with her being gone.
Ok is what there is to be - eventually. But that's eventually, and this is now. I don't know how those two ends meet in a middle that makes sense. I don't know what kind of alchemy has to happen in the world for that to even be meaningful.
One lie at a time, I suppose.
I'm ok.
Sorry, Kate. Love you, Kate. Miss you, Kate.
My friend Kate,
kathrynrose, died today. And then I sit and stare at the white space, because what could possibly follow those words, to make them make sense or give them context? What could I possibly say?
I don't know what to say. I haven't known what to say all day, sending emails, sending texts. I didn't know what to say when Allison called to tell me this morning, and I'm afraid I didn't say anything coherent. The word "fuck" might have happened. Maybe more than once? I honestly don't remember. I keep not knowing what to say and then saying something - anything - anyway. And hoping like hell it's sufficient to the task at hand.
I don't know what the task at hand is right now. Which is probably why I'm floundering.
I've been thinking a lot about found families lately. Partly because I've been reading books for a discussion club about it, and partly because it's just an idea which has a good kind of weight on my heart at the best of times. Kate was part of my found family. She was my sister. My unexpected, found, sister.
Here's a thing I learned early on about Kate: she couldn't abide a lie - she told me once that a lie would hurt her more than anything else. So I didn't lie to her, not even for politeness sake. She could take criticism well (though she was more likely to attribute that to my skills at giving it than hers at receiving - I dispute the charge) and it was nice knowing I could just speak my mind. And gosh, did we speak our minds. As soon as we got to talking, we found out that we were so alike (and also so different - she thought I was nuts for eating pineapple on pizza, for instance). (No, no I am not. :P )
She was stubborn. She was opinionated. And she was tactful... right up until she wasn't. I've never met anyone else who had the exact same social limits as me - which was a problem from time to time, as we'd both just be DONE at the same time. Heh. But never with each other. And it took a while.
She was quick to say "I love you" - and she meant it, every time. She was insightful and sweet and sharp and wicked and she got me, in a way that's hard to explain, and I got her.
She hadn't been writing much, these last few years - she said she liked having written something more than writing it, and it wasn't worth the pain to get to the product - but she'd been reading. She was one of my first readers, for almost every thing I wrote. A silly poem snippet? Off to Kate - I bet it'll make her smile. A short story? Kate should see this. A flash piece where I'm not sure if I'm clear enough? Well, if Kate doesn't get it, then I'm definitely being too obtuse. (Far more often, Kate would get it and then other folks would be confused. *shrugs* The perils of sending stuff to a sister to read for clarity is that she's maybe a little too familiar with the way you see the world).
I showed her things I never intended to show anyone else (except maybe Todd) just because she loved reading my words - all of them, even the bad ones (and oh, believe me, there are lots of those), and she always, always had something insightful to say. If not about the words, then about me. "So, feeling a little angry lately?" Yeah. Yeah, I am, Kate. Good catch. I hadn't actually noticed it myself yet.
And when she did write, oh, she had such a way. She could capture a moment, a mood, a whole scene, in so few words. You would swear she'd put in all these details, about the scents, the textures, the emotions... but every word was precise and every word was deliberate and she was just evoking those things, like a freakin' summoning spell. It was magic.
She knew how to be quiet. And she knew when to be loud. She was fierce and she was timid and she was messed up and she was neurotic and she was nostalgic and she was complicated and she was silly and she was serious and she was awesome.
We only knew each other for... six years? Seven? Ish? It feels like longer. In an email, back in 2013, I wrote "I am SO in need of more awesome people in my life, and you totally qualify. Let's be buddies. :) Also, hey, we could be some sort of weird time and space separated twins! That there sounds like a story premise... *grins*"
I feel like I've known her my whole life. I've certainly told her enough stories about my life for that to be true. I didn't hear nearly as many of hers as I wanted - there was always "remind me later to tell you the story about..." and then, well, sometimes later gets shuffled into other things. Because we could be silent for stretches, and then rapid-firing 20+ emails to each other in a day. We could text each other entirely in emoticons and then just bust out with paragraphs. She was part of my heart and my head and... and well here we are.
Lesson learned: sometimes you find your family when you're not looking. Maybe always? I don't know. But there she was, and there we were. For some very hard and very weird years.
And I've just been so very, very, very lucky to know her.
And I am so, so, so not ok with her being gone.
Ok is what there is to be - eventually. But that's eventually, and this is now. I don't know how those two ends meet in a middle that makes sense. I don't know what kind of alchemy has to happen in the world for that to even be meaningful.
One lie at a time, I suppose.
I'm ok.
Sorry, Kate. Love you, Kate. Miss you, Kate.
