Eulogy for a Tender Hearted Friend

A few days ago, one of my friends had a headache and took a nap. She suffered from debilitating headaches so this was not an unusual thing for her to have to do. Sadly, she never woke from her nap. It would seem logical to assume she was taken by a blood clot to the brain or an aneurism but that's not what happened.

K was 35 years old and the fittest and healthiest she'd been in the twelve years that I've known her. Yet, she died of Spontaneous Coronary Artery Dissection, an extremely rare cardiac event. It's an event that doesn't fit your "typical" heart patient; it can happen to anyone. And it happened to K and her family and friends are lost for words at the shock of it all.

It's an absolute truth that, no matter how unpleasant someone has been in life, we canonise them after they die. It's also an absolute truth that K deserves every wonderful thing that has been said and written about her. She was one of those people the world needs more of. She was kind, tender hearted, generous and loving. She took great care of her family, friends and animals. And she did it quietly. One really had to get to know her to fully grasp how much she did for other people because she was not one to seek attention. Her family and friends knew, however, and loved her for it. Her husband and two sons adored her. Their love for her was palpable and it was returned tenfold.

I know a handful of people and K was one of them who just cannot see their own worth and value. If she could read all the tributes to her, she would probably say, "Pffft!" I wish she could have seen herself through the eyes of her family and friends who loved her so much. I wish she could see the emotional devastation her passing is wreaking on her family and friends. I know, however, that she wouldn't have been who she was if she could have. And we loved her just the way she was and will continue to do so.

When a loved one is taken - particularly suddenly - we examine our own lives and wonder how we can make better use of our time. We wonder how we can honour that person and incorporate some of their spirit into ourselves. We tend to agree that we must savour every moment. For me, in the wake of K's passing, I want to be fully present in every moment, especially when I'm with others. I don't want them to feel like I'm planning my response to what they're saying or even what I'm going to cook that night. I don't want them to feel like I prefer my phone to them. I want to express my love and appreciation for my family and friends more often in both words and deeds. And most of all, I want to try to follow K's shining example of how to treat people. That's how I feel I can best honour my friend, K.

Rest in peace.