Letter to a Grieving Friend

Hello L,

To start with, you’ve no apologies to make. I do, for being absorbed by my work and not responding more immediately to your messages.

There is much to be said about grief, and much of what’s been said comes from voices clearer than mine. I love you for worrying about my heart while awash in the pieces of your own. Thank you for the honesty of your reasoning. What an honor to be your friend.

It is possible there are other, harder to name, shiftier reasons why the thought of me is difficult, and it’s ok not to name them. This time is for you and what you need; not me. To the extent you can, please try not to let good intentions about shielding me complicate your own mourning.

Please also forgive the curved margin here. I cut this out of a notebook. Turns out I have two typewriters but no paper. LA has made me a barbarian.

I would love to hear from you. because I love you. Silence is beautiful, too - if it means you are busy being you.

For some reason I find myself now regarding loss like ours in a visceral, visual way. Something akin to finding your hands covered in red paint. Magically all we do is stained. Without our permission our own being and understanding of the world is colored, marred really, by the indelible.

It is long, it is painful. But I think with luck, love and perseverance you may find yourself able to color the life around you in surprising new ways. The thing that you once wished desperately to wash away may become the instrument of beauty our mothers would have wished for us. Death’s poems take years to read themselves aloud.

Take your time. True friendship doesn’t watch the clock.

Natalie