How did I meet her? When? It’s hard to pin down the exacts. When we met, I was tumbling out of mania and into the depths of depression. I was hiding from the hardest year of my life, and she was brave enough, kind enough, compassionate enough to say,
“Yes, I will live with you. Yes, I will witness your grief without flinching. Yes, I will accept your absence, embrace your presence, encourage your very existence. Yes.”
It’s cliche, but she embodied grace.
Never have I met a girl so aptly named.
I knew her well, several years ago,
and although I have forgotten the details, I have not forgotten how she made me feel.
She moved into
and we nested together.
We cocooned ourselves from the world,
wrapped each other in blankets and long conversations of words that have long since slipped from my mind but still I remember
how she made me feel:
How is it that the purest of us keep departing? Again I want to rage against the unfairness of someone so good and kind and wonderful being taken away so abruptly.
So I don’t remember the details, but I remember how she made me feel.
News of her death came the way most do these days: a tragic flash that stops you in your tracks, the scroll of a newsfeed brought to a grinding halt by a harsh reality:
the beautiful soul that went missing two days ago has been found.
Why couldn’t our paths have crossed again? Before things came to an end?
One thing is certain: she will not be forgotten.
Her light sparked similar glows in every person she met.
Her kindness still warms us long after she’s gone.
Her image remains imprinted on our souls.
I will remember
how she made me feel.
If you didn’t know Grayce, you might think I’m romanticizing, glorifying someone just because they are gone. But if you knew Grayce, you know that everything I’ve said is true, all of it. She was the purest of the pure, sweetest of sweet; you could see it in the smile that reached her eyes. Watching her dance with her hoop was mesmerizing and meditative and marvelous. Being in her presence was like stepping off of a noisy street and into a quiet room. She felt like safety and calm.
I don’t know what happened to her, or how she died, and that not-knowing is hard, because distraught imaginations are not easy to reign in. It will come out eventually, as all things do in this digital age, so for now I’m remembering how she made me feel. Sitting in front of a warm light, breathing deeply, remembering deeply. The newsfeed will continue to update, there’s no need to sit and watch. Now is the time to sit and remember.