My heart is breaking.
It seems silly, to say such a thing because someone you’ve never met has passed away.
But here I sit, silent tears pouring down my face. Tears for the magnificent collection of words that will no longer be sculpted and forged by your contemplative hands.
I see them, all those syllables, lying in a heap at my feet, and think that they look just a little bit forlorn, knowing they were not the chosen ones to be plucked for your masterpieces.
Of course, now that you are gone, you will be wildly popular.
It always vexes me that so many are paid attention to so greatly in death.
People will say, “Oh! Have you read all of her memoirs? She was quite a woman. Phenomenal, in fact.”
I will shake my head, not because the answer is no, but because I have known these things far longer than they, and am sorry they have lost out on all that time they too could have known your words.
You were proud, and not afraid to say so, yet you prayed for humility.
I will feed your ego now, and not fault you if you strut around arrogantly just a little bit in Heaven.
I am afraid there will never be another like you.
Someone who is so unapologetically truthful, and unconventionally beautiful.
Someone who will say words just as they are thought, but in such a way that causes a violent reaction, one of delight, or love, or anger, or wistfulness.
I will forever be sorry I never had the honor of meeting you, and hope that one day in the future, when I pass through those Pearly Gates, I might see you nod your head at me, just so I know that you know I heard you.
From one Phenomenal Woman to Another