Wendyta

Everything reminds me of you right now -- the sight of a pretty sundress, of long brown hair, of my own running shoes, of the running path around the little lake that's by my house. The joyful notes of a Latin song. Even thoughts of my own mother and father (because they remind me of yours). I can find no comfort for this, Wendy. The loss of you is shattering. And that's how it's going to be.

You and I shared a culture. We shared a language. We shared a love for running (but you were the better runner who ran marathons). We shared being tiny, Central American women. We shared a love for Literature (but while you were a Hemingway girl, I loved Henry James). We shared a love for Nasty Gal dresses (but only you were the true, day-to-day fashionista). We shared the small Liberal Arts college we attended (but while I was a Literature major, you pursued the career path my mother always wanted for me). We both loved the streets of Abacoa, those streets you used to run in back then when I only took long walks. Unlike you, in our college days, I simply sought silence and solitude. I could go on. We shared a love for berry-red lipstick. And a once-in-a-lifetime bliss: that of being so very, very in love! We found good men, both of us. Men who loved us completely, and whose love we returned absolutely. This. The lifetime of love that was yours to have. This hurts the most.

I remember when each of these pictures went up on your Facebook, and I remember loving them all. The power woman. The Florida girl in a sunhat, in a sundress. The runner. The girl with a bike. I remember a quote you once included with the picture in which you're practically dancing --

 "...And now that you don't have to be perfect, you can be good. Enjoy your life!" 

I never told you at the time (you know how Facebook is, often, you hit the "like" button and that is that), but your words, that day, brought to my mind a beautiful poem by Mary Oliver that I have always loved, Wild Geese.

Your kind of poem. I wish I had told you, Wendy.

You lived hard, that much I know.

You were a force to be reckoned with, that much I know.

You made something incredible out of yourself and all of your gifts.

And losing you now is only a tragedy.

Rest in peace, sweetest girl.

28 September 2018