But then the texts and the calls started coming in, and I could hear the pain and the sadness, and the tragic reality hit. I was dumbstruck. I still am struggling to accept this surreal and unfathomable situation.
We met in the summer of 2011, and I liked you instantly. Initially, I liked you because you were Tommy's dance partner, and you felt no need to ever mince words with him or with anyone. You were funny, talented, outspoken and totally adorable. I learned quickly that, if you were sassy and fresh, it meant you liked someone. And you could be sassy and fresh. But you truly had a heart of gold. I don't think there is anything you would not have done if a friend needed you. You were one of those rare people who would drop everything at a moment's notice to help out a friend or a family member. And we were all your family members.
You loved your family with every fiber of your being. When I wanted to throw a party for Tommy's birthday, you wanted to contribute to the planning and the decorations and everything. You seemed to always be there to help with everything. It's like you were omnipotent! You were at the theater early to help people learn dance combinations. You were there late to practice. You were always present in social groups offering your wit and your gorgeous smile. You were just always there. If we needed someone to sit with little G, you were there, and he'd be in your lap in seconds. And there he'd stay.
You just possessed a warmth that is enviable, something to which we all should aspire.
When Tim J was involved in the horrible accident, you were ever-present, talking to the press, setting up accounts to help with his medical costs, helping coordinate his benefit. Honestly, I can't think of a single important event in the last four years where you wren't contributing in some way.
When Tim was in the accident, and miraculously survived, it only re-enforced my false sense of safety for all of us. I never assume anything bad is really going to happen to any of us. We are invincible. We are a strong group. This is, I think, why I still am struggling so with this reality.
Just a couple weeks ago, I texted you. We hadn't spoken in forever. I was just walking to Central Park, and I thought of you and missed you, so I sent a text to tell you so. You shot back a reply saying something like "Get a job." But, within minutes, you texted again saying "Just kidding! I miss you!". I replied that you wouldn't have to miss us for long because we are coming home. You texted back saying "Don't lie to me, Norman!". I wasn't lying, sweet girl. We are coming! I want to see you again. This is so unfair. This is so fucked up. I want to hear you laugh. I want to see you misbehaving backstage. I want you to help my two left feet understand a dance step. I want to see you snuggled on the couch with G watching trash TV with Tommy. I don't know when it will get easier to understand this. My inclination is to try to find a lesson or a reason or a moral to this story. But the truth is-sometimes, there isn't one. Sometimes, there is nothing to be gleaned except that life can suck and you can lose a friend in minutes. And that is a cruel and merciless truth.
I know you are dancing in heaven and trying to ignore my whining and probably occasionally rolling your eyes at all of the fuss. But I just want you to know that I don't like it one bit and that you've left a gaping hole in our community and that someday I am going to see you again and, after I yell at you, I am going to hug you for an eternity.
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