I just keep thinking about that old exercise… “what will people say about you when you’re gone.” I bet Diane could never have come close to knowing what she meant to people. Who she was for everyone in her life. She lived her life pretty much doing the things that made her happy—usually those things included saying what she thought, not in a mean way, but in an expressive… usually funny way. You never had to wonder what she was thinking… She was such a friend to so many. The investment she made in the relationships she cultivated over the years is truly something I’ve always marveled at. She was always there for me, and I know she was for so many others too. That was just who she was.
Was.
That’s not right. It’s just not.
I guess to live life, like she has, in a way where everything is said – causes those around you to say it too. What a gift. She would tell me she loved me and I would tell her the same thing as we hugged good-bye every time we saw each other. How can there never be another good-bye? She has always been so full of life. So determined. So young. So dependable and unpredictable at the same time.
Her sense of humor was my favorite part. Maybe not, maybe it was her shoulder and her ear and her sassy reality check. She was always so together. She did exactly the things that were important to her. She just loved interesting people and places and experiences, she really loved life and she was so incredibly good at it. Her last boyfriend described her as “aggressively friendly” not so long ago and we both laughed our asses off. It couldn’t have been more true and she was very proud of that. Her zest for living was infectious—I think that’s why so many people liked being around her. I’m not sure I’ve ever known anyone with more true friends than Diane.
She could ask a stranger for a taste of their dessert just to mess with them—and half the time they’d give her a bite! She almost always needed to have a taste of the wine before she ordered it. My GOD she was funny… this quick, razor sharp and dry wit. So clever. So smart… at the same time so warm and so caring.
I don’t know if I’ve ever been as generous in this life as she’s spent her whole life being. There was something about her that has always been so curious. Curious about life, about people, about food or wine or music. She simply wasn’t ever going to be ear-marked as anything in particular—she was everything. She just loved everything. Maybe not everything… She wasn’t wild about country music. She wouldn’t tolerate a game-player or a liar. She hated crappy food and expected good service. And she did NOT like being taken advantage of any more than she could stand seeing someone else taken advantage of. She wasn’t good at being bored… but she was brilliant at a billion other things.
She loved traveling, she loved really fabulous food and wine and music and baseball... she loved theater too, but mostly I think she loved people. She loved adventure and saw so much of the world as a child would see it. Like it was the first time. Everything had a little bit of a surprise in it. She could play with a kid or talk to a stranger with the same level of enthusiasm and fun spirit that she did everything else with.
Her friends were her family and I really don’t think she would have had it any other way.
I don’t want to think about her and cry. Those two things just don’t belong together… but I can’t help it. I’m a better person, having known her, than I would have otherwise been. What does life look like for those she left behind—without that contagious energy and the fun and the stable acceptance that she brought where ever she would go.
