today.

Linds,

I’ve been thinking about what I would write today for weeks. I’ve thought it over so many times and just avoided sitting down to put anything on paper. Last night I laughed to myself realizing how much more of a Lindsay move this is than an Amanda move. I remember when we were planning our fundraiser at Duke, I’d be silently freaking out that I hadn’t heard anything from you about some silly task. Like magic, though, you’d always have it done, and done perfectly, when we needed it. So, let’s call this my step 1 towards becoming more spontaneous.

I can’t believe it’s been 2 years. I know that’s what everyone says when they reflect on the passage of time since some life event. I’m not even sure that people really mean anything when they say it. I can’t believe that it’s been 2 years, because 2 years seems both way too long and way too short to describe the amount of time that you’ve been gone. On the one hand, I honestly feel like it can’t possibly have been years since I last saw or spoke to you. I have so many memories, so many stories that involve you, and I don’t really understand how it’s been years since we’ve made new stories together. Your huge personality, radiance, beauty, and love are literally able to transverse time, and I can still feel your presence and channel your reaction, energy, strength, and spirit accompanying me through life. Needless to say, our time as best friends was cut unjustly short, but I am so lucky to have had such a powerful friendship. It’s hard to describe a friendship with a best friend, and also feels a little bit like kissing-and-telling, sharing intimate details that weren’t intended for others. Everyone whom you have touched has shared countless stories, undeniably confirming that you were the most amazing person they’d met, and of course this rings true for me. I guess what I can add is that it is so, so rare to have a best friend who is your “everything” best friend. You know, there are friends whom you confide in, but aren’t the most fun. There are friends to party with, but you’d never trust. There are friends to gossip with, friends to debate with, friends to drag on errands, and friends to watch mindless TV and eat hundreds of M&Ms with. You, Linds, were my everything best friend. Most people don’t find that in a lifetime. That type of friendship endures the passage of time, and I can’t wrap my head around the fact that it’s been several hundred days since I’ve made new memories with you.

On the other hand, 2 years doesn’t possibly sound long enough to describe the number of days I’ve gotten through without you. Literally once a day I need to stop myself from reaching for my phone to call or text you. I need your advice, your encouragement, your approval for my questionable behaviors, and I need to brag or complain to you about sciencey things that no one else cares about, to online shop with you and make you justify my ridiculous purchases, or obviously to gossip with you about who wore what (or who fell during the Oscars but looked totally badass doing it). I am so lucky that our friendship was so full that I can channel you in most of these situations, but I miss you immensely every single solitary day.

Yesterday I spent the day working with DKMS on a new PSA and training video for donor drive volunteers. I couldn’t have picked a better way to spend some of my time this week. I told “my story” (laughing so hard at how daunting those 2 words were to you) countless times, and honestly, Linds, people continue to be touched and blown away by you. You just can’t make up a person like you. One of the other “talents” (yes, I’m a talent, get used to it) there yesterday was a guy who got swabbed at the Long Island drive and went on to donate and save someone’s life. He told everyone who would listen how inspired he was by you and how honored he is to be able to do this in your legacy. He also called it a “done marrow boner” and a “boner drive” multiple times. Oh yea, and they had to adjust the camera angle numerous times because I looked "a little midgety." Literally unreal. You would’ve loved it.

Last night it poured, obviously - the type of torrential rain that either depresses or comforts you. I definitely wasn’t wearing the right shoes, and my hair and makeup from the shoot didn’t bode well. But I knew it meant you were here with me, helping me through a hard day, and giving your stamp of approval on “my story.” Today is a perfect amount of overcast. We need a little bit of pathetic fallacy here I guess. Over-accessorizing for you today. Maybe Jane and Howie will let me do some online shopping on them (hint, hint).

Totally didn’t read this over. But I know you’re not judging me. Step 2 in spontaneity.

Love you and miss you so so so freaking much. INFINITE kisses.

xxxx,

z

Some things never change.

Linds,

I should write more often.  It doesn’t feel like two years since I’ve seen you.  I will confess that every once in awhile, the reality that you’re gone paralyzes me.  I dread those moments because I'm always unprepared. It feels like my insides abruptly drain out of me and I’m left empty.  It doesn’t last long.  You are an extremely easy resource to replenish.   

Last week, you were in my dream.  We were back in Durham sharing a room, a definite downgrade from our Belmont apartment, but we didn’t mind.  I could distinctly smell your morning breath- a familiar scent thanks to the number of times we climbed into bed together in the mornings to nap and chat.  I miss your musk.  It was with me the rest of the day.  

I’m embarrassed to admit that I’ve been watching the Bachelor, though I don’t sense you’re judging.  It’s no House Hunters International, but there is a measure of suspense to it.  I’m totally convinced that one of the lucky contenders, Desiree, has stolen your legs.  During every rose ceremony, I see you from the waist down, as she stands there decked out.   It is the EXACT same posture you used to strike in the mirror right before we would go out.  Yes, during those precious minutes (read: hour) that you’d exceed me in getting ready,  I’d sink into our gold couch, cocktail in hand, and watch as you would stand in front of your dresser, knees locked, feet hip distance apart, face cemented in its overly serious primping stare.

                                           

Then, when you looked immaculate (as you always did), you’d turn, clap your hands together with your signature LAR smile, and declare that it was time.  I’d give anything for you to usher me out the door these days on a typical night out.   

I frequently toy around with veganism these days, and I think of you everytime I attempt to cook.  I seriously question how you got enough protein during your vegan days given that the fundamentals of your diet included smoothies, coconut milk ice cream, and pierogies. I try to sneak kale into as many recipes as I can in your honor, but only if its taste is adequately masked to your liking.  We both know it’s a pretty unlikable super food.   I let it rot often in my fridge in your honor as well.  

I still hate long tables during group dinners.  I always laugh to myself when I sit down at one.  We used to do mad amounts of maneuvering during the rush to sit down to ensure we’d end up near each other.  

                                   

Sometimes we would fail miserably, which meant that we’d spend the entire meal making eye contact and funny faces at each other at inopportune moments.   I still look for you at the end of every table.  

I could never online shop without you.  I still have so much to learn.   I don’t have the attention to detail. Or the patience.  Or the style that you did.   You were so freakishly good at sifting through page after page. Your laptop was permanently littered with at least 5 carts, filled to the brim, that you were in the midst of evaluating.   A week rarely went by without the arrival of a sizable package for you.  You’ll be proud to know that my desk job has finally made an online shopper of me. I partially blame you every time I pull the trigger.  

I feel like we’ve danced together so many times in the last two years even though we haven’t.   I find myself throwing my arms above my head, attempting to imitate your signature d-floor move.   

                                       
It’s a work in progress.   Every time I try, I smile so hard, because only you know what I’m doing.  It makes me miss you so much during the strangest times.   Like on seedy club dance floors or in dark basement bars.    

You’ve been with me during so many hard times in the last two years.   I know you were there as I went through your room with Billie last year.  An impossible task made bearable by the number of pieces of you I took home with me.  Thank you for saving the magnetic whiteboard from our fridge, literally as it was the day we moved out
.

I could never feel at home anywhere without you.   

You were with me in Maine the day I checked my dad in to the hospital.   You serve as a constant reminder for me to show strength of character and acceptance in the face of illness.   I don’t know how I would be surviving these days if you hadn’t taught me that lesson during the last few years of your life.  

You sat with Clare, Anne, and me in the pew that day in Portland last November- the hardest day we’ve faced since March 4th, 2011.  A moment doesn’t go by that the memory of you doesn’t inspire me to go any distance for a friend.  I’ll never, ever have a best friend like you, but I have many other best friends because of you. 

A lot's changed over the last seven hundred and thirty days, but you'll be relieved to know what hasn't. You are still my best friend and my soul mate. Things are still complicated, even according to Facebook. Your absence is a perpetual sting, your memory an endless smile, your spirit a fortuitous constant. I still miss you oh so much. 

Stay sparkly

Em