How do you write an obituary for someone who hid from themselves, hid who they were and shared only what made them seem grand and above reproach? How do you bypass the barriers and climb the walls that stood between you both, actually between all who tried to share a life with the individual.

It’s not an easy task and it must be daunting to say the least. It’s also sad, very sad that in the hours that fall behind this passing of the soul, no one is able to reconstruct the life that led to this moment with any great detail, fondness, truth and most of all contributory influences! The sadness pushes all else aside, it wills the staring participants to look inside instead of out, to address where they stand, and how they stood in the life that was so superficially shared.

Like residue of some unfinished liquid, we stand and watch. Like pieces of a not so complete story we wonder why we were ever a part of it to begin with. A soul has passed and memory is called upon to validate the life shared, but eyes glaze over, lips freeze and the mind reels from the swinging hammer that smashes the façade she created. It’s sad, sad that she left friends and family with very little to share, very little to burn inside our hearts and give us yarn to weave with.

What’s the point of this? Now we gather and start to understand that we were little more than figurines that were placed precisely in her brittle life. We were engaged when needed, and the fleeting glimpse of her truth that held some close, was not enough to garner understanding. So now, the pen wavers above the paper as a “friend” tries to gather the wisps of a hidden life and make it take form.

Adieu to someone who might have left an impact, might have left a legacy, might have created deep altruistic friendships. Adieu to someone who had the elements of life, its truth and its beauty, but was unable to gather them close and share in the warmth. It’s sad…but in the wake of such a matter, the curiosity burns in the middle of this one common fact; we tried.