February 21st, 2019

winter house

I heard that my old friend died.

I didn't know her well, but I liked her a lot.  One of my favorites of the Kansas lesbians.  She had a great spirit.

Got the word via text from the woman I kept in touch with most from that gang, until a few years ago.  It didn't seem from the interchange that she wanted to interact more than to convey the news, and some cursory back-and-forth how-de-dos.  Shortly after we had our falling out, I came to associate it with a cluster of losses I had at that time.  All arguably good calls on the self-care front, but that didn't stop me from needling myself about them, individually and collectively.  In sympathy with myself (for not being sympathetic with myself), it was a hard time to bear that sort of clustering.

I'm not as much of a mess these days, I think I can say, without being way off.

Cookie (as I called her) was maybe 2 or 3 years older than me.  Not much.  She had a cancer battle over a decade ago, but came back from that.  The report is that she died peacefully.

Jesus Lordie Christ on a Cracker:  mortality is the worst.