In memoriam.

December 3, Ft Myers.

My friend Lily died Thursday after complications from a stroke, the second she'd had.
The first one defined her life, leaving her unable to speak, walk, remember, redefining her life and making her an even more beautiful person than I imagine her to be, before, refining her down to the essential, the pure joy of being alive, like a child.
She died and left that joy in all of us an empty place, resonating with the sound of her voice velvety and lulling, the touch of her hand strong, stubbornly irresistible, the feel of her lingering pace. She walked at her own pace after that first stroke, she forgot things, she moved though life slowly, lingering behind, she drove you crazy sometimes and then you would catch yourself and feel remorseful and cruel and wait for her as she walked to you softly smiling and there was nothing you could say but yes, we are here, now.
She was a photographer, before that first stroke. A photographer she met another photographer, who would become my friend Marie and would introduce me to Lily, and they walked the road together for many years.
In the end I didn't know much about Lily all these years but that she was a photographer and then she had a stroke that left her like an infant, the heart of a child in the body of an adult woman for the rest of her life, her heart that betrayed her again and then stopped. I didn't know much about Lily but that she was to live forever with us, our angel lightness, walking life softly.