Today is the funeral of my one-time best friend Renate. We met when we were 25 years old and were inseparable for most of the next 12 years. After that Renate changed a lot and we had very little contact. I stayed friends with her family and especially her sister, who looked after Renate in her last year of life. She died last week.
Everywhere I look in my life, in my home, in my office, I see Renate. All the presents she gave me: the pictures she painted, the funny feather ear-rings, the guest-book she had her sister make specially for me and all her entries in it, the porcelain swan in my glass cabinet, the decorations for the surprise 30th birthday party she gave me, which I still keep at the bottom of my wardrobe, the clothes she gave me in size 36 when I was ill 15 years ago and lost so much weight, and still kept in case I got down to that size again, the nameplate for my front door that she hand-made, all the many, many photos. And countless other things, too many to even start listing.
When I first met Renate, she desperately wanted a large brass bed. When I left my husband, one of the first things I bought was a large brass bed, but only because Renate had made it sound so attractive. I still have it and of course sleep in it every night. We were two very creative young girls with all kinds of crazy ideas, and we grew up into two very creative women, probably both a little eccentric. And even when she didn't want any contact any more, I still loved her.
I will always love her and think of her a little every day, and that is why I will go to her funeral today. I will take the funny feather ear-rings, and maybe try to leave them there. So that she will take a little bit of me with her, wherever she is going now. I wish I knew where that was.
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