I don’t even know how to begin this, so I’ll just ramble on.
I just learned from Bill that my old friend, Kim, lost his wife Connie.
Now, to say that I “knew” Connie and Kim would be the most horrid understatement that I ever uttered.
Way back when I could barely type a post, much less knew what the hell HTML was, they were the ones who stumbled across me and invited me to a shindig at their house. That’s where I met Rachel Lucas, Bill Whittle before he was more than a commenter on Rachel’s blog, and so many more people who will always be with me, people who forever changed my life and who I am.
But Connie in particular… She was the one who saw something in me that I didn’t even realize I had, she was the one who hauled me out of my comfort zone and showed me just what I had in me.
To say that she merely changed the trajectory of my life would be an insult.
I can’t even begin to say how much she and Kim meant to me and who I am today, and to learn that she’s no longer among us just hurts. Bad. Not as bad as I know that it hurts Kim, because I never saw a couple who were more dedicated to each other than they. But it hurts still.
Connie, you changed my life, and changed it for the better. With your infinite curiosity, you optimism, everything that was you, you left behind something, something for which I’ll always be grateful. Your leaving us leaves a hole in this world, but you didn’t just leave. You left this world a better place than it was when you found it. If I could only hope to do that myself.
And Kim, if you read this, let me know. Let me know so I can be there for you in any way I can. If you still have my number, call. If you have my email addy, write. I lost all of that info when my old hard drive crashed (taught me how to do backups), and if all else fails, I think I still know the way to your place and I’ll find it.
Kim has a fundraiser going here if you have a few shekels. I don’t have much, but I’ve sent what I have. Not because it softens the blow, I can’t even imagine, but, well, because I don’t know what else to do right now.
And I have to do something.
I miss you already, Connie, but I know that I’ll see you again.
Keep a chair empty for me and let me have it. Just like you always did.