Today is a big day in my life for several reasons. It’s the day eight years ago that I met my now ex-husband and my life changed forever. It’s the first day of my favorite month of the year. And it’s also the day I stop to think about my friend Kathy, who has now been dead for more than 10 years.

She died far too young of ovarian cancer. Crushing. Unfair. Stupid. And what a loss she left.

Kathy immigrated to the United States at a fairly young age. But not before she work for Nelson Mandela in her native country. She was wickedly smart. She was funny and generous. She taught me that you don’t have to clean your house before you have people over if you light a lot of candles and turn the lights down. You also don’t really have to feed them much as long as you have good wine. And above all she taught me that you could talk about anything as long as you were smart. No fake humility, no dumbing it down. Tell it like it is and show off your smarts. 

Kathy was also one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever met in my life. She was often mistaken for  Nicole Kidman even though she was South African not Australian.  She could wear a ratty old T-shirt and jeans and still have men stop to look at her.   I was once at a wedding with her where a Frenchman saw her from across the room at a seated dinner and moved his place card to our table insisting that we were the only table of nine at the entire wedding. He had to sit and speak with her. Of course she spoke fluent French and very nearly went home without him that night. I’m still thankful she didn’t because she was my roommate that night but she had men fall at her feet wherever she went. 

 I could go on. She loved to shop at  thrift stores, read feverishly, devoured politics, but above all else she adored her daughter.   She changed her entire life for her daughter. This great, brilliant, charming beauty stayed single for more than a decade because she didn’t want to confuse her daughter and introduce a man into her life if he wasn’t good enough. She had loves, of course. But she never left her daughter to go on dates and  put her beautiful girl at the center of her world 

There’s a Pearl Jam song called Just Breathe. When Kathy was dying and on the day of her funeral and memorial, I heard that song over and over.   Of course I heard it on the radio today. It was a bright and beautiful day and I was so full of joy, and I heard that song and I could picture walking out of her memorial service and sobbing. And I started sobbing in the car just like I did that day more than 10 years ago. I wish she was here today, because I knew she would give me great advice about being a mom to an only child, beautiful, smart daughter.  She would talk to me I’m doing in my dating/sex life probably with some girly and probably with some caution. She would ask me why I’m not taking better care of myself, my mind and my body. And she would give me a great glass of wine and asked me what I’ve read. 

I miss you, my friend. I will let Pearl Jam say the rest. 

Nothing you would take
Everything you gave
Hold me 'till I die
Meet you on the other side

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=E5bAawsa7_s