On Tuesday November 19th, 2024,
my friend Vanessa died after a year-plus long battle with metastatic breast cancer.
She was 36 years old.
She is survived by her husband, my friend, Kyle.
She has three beautiful daughters, all below age 5:
Anna Charis, Mary-Clare, Sophia.
Vanessa started life as Caitlin.
Her name change, which took place around the same time she was diagnosed,
represented an intense searching.
That searching was a deconstruction of the box she sensed she had been placed in,
by well-meaning people and a culture that has never known how to honor the deep beauty of the feminine without trying to control it.
She was the personification of love.
The first time I met her in Memphis, TN over 8 years ago,
she rushed to me and wrapped me in a fierce hug with zero hesitation.
Over the last 24 hours, I get flashes of memory of time with her.
The way she held my hand while we watched people dance on my wedding day.
The way she showed up when I was packing up to leave Richmond with a blessing to read, even though I was pissed off about it at the time.
The way she could take any event, like a birthday party for one of her daughters, and crank it up to 11 with the excess of meaning she looked for in every moment.
She was a lot.
She was complicated.
Sometimes I had to push back on her way of drawing close.
She could hurt people too.
She was not a perfect person, and nobody is.
When we remember the ones we love who have left,
it’s all too easy to avoid the reality of how their beauty came through the cracks of their imperfections.
But if Vanessa had one truth at the core of her being,
it was an unceasing commitment to the truth.
So I will honor that commitment by telling the truth.
And the truth is, she was one of my favorite people in the world.
There will never be another smile like hers,
or another laugh.
There will never be another form of wisdom and Grace,
embodied in the way she did.
She was a singular human being.
And she is a singular soul.
I will miss that human form she came to be with us in.
And I will honor that singular soul as I wonder what it means to step into my role as spiritual god-father to her children.
When she and Kyle asked me to take that role,
it was a way to make sure we stayed connected over time and space as the rhythms of life unfolded.
It means something different now.
I’m not sure what.
Perhaps it means making sure she lives on through me when I’m with them.
So they never have to wonder how much she loves them.
Rest in peace, Vanessa.
What a gift to know and love people. What a gift that Vanessa knew your love, JJ. I can attest: it’s special.
At a time when words usually fail us, you found the perfect ones.
Rest in peace Vanessa, for you've changed so many lives through your own. That's the whole point of living, I believe. To Kyle, to Anna Charis, Mary-Clare, and Sophia, and to you: My deepest sympathies.