Losing a Friend

A couple days ago, my friend died.

This is probably the hardest sentence I’ve written – at least in this space.

On January 6, 2021, Sarah Jones was killed in a fatal crash on Bradley Avenue near Jackson Road. Sarah was only 39 years old and had so much more life to live.

I am still processing it and it doesn’t feel real. One day you’re chatting and laughing about the subheadings she added to your column (like for the 100th time) and the following day they are gone. 

I’ve known Sarah for 20+ years. After high school our lives took us in completely different directions and we hadn’t talked much at all. But in early 2018, Sarah reached out to me asking if I’d be interested in contributing to Business London Magazine and to talk about the Forest City Cookbook I was helping create. I accepted and soon it was like our old friendship was new again.

Over these last three years we spoke often, in-person, over the phone, by text and via zoom. A lot had to do with the Magazine, my marketing column, side projects we working on together or just the London Business Community in general. But Sarah always, and I mean always was checking in to see how I was doing.

That was just her, making sure you were good. Our conversations seemed to frequently digress into sharing stories about life, marriage and parenting. Frankly speaking, Sarah was pretty forward, almost pushy (but in a good way), here’s a text from her...

One of our many conversations of her suggesting I quit my 9 to 5 job and jump into running my own business. She was great at making you feel better about things, giving you that boost of confidence when you needed it most.

She was (it still feels weird saying WAS) one of the nicest people I’ve ever known. The sort of person who always made you happy even just because you were thinking about them – if I looked at my phone and saw that I had a text from her I couldn’t help but smile. Just seeing her name light up my phone made me light up inside. I picture her face, voice in my head and smile just thinking of her. She wasn’t a best friend or even one of my closest friends, but we had a real connection, I never really got to tell her how much I appreciated her friendship and for helping encourage me to take the entrepreneurial leap, supporting me by featuring my clients in the magazine, how refreshing her sense of humour was, how she made me (but also anyone she talked to) feel like the most important person in the world at that moment; also, how happy I was anytime I got a text from her after she proofed my column and reassured me that my writing was continuously getting better - that many people have complimented my column. She was snarky, witty and clever... but also just so good at making anyone in her orbit feel great.

IT’S HARD TO SHARE THIS HERE.

I know I’m going to get a lot of “sorry for your loss,” this and that, which honestly only makes it harder, probably because it makes it more real. I am finally at a point where I feel comfortable writing about it. And for me, writing is cathartic – always has been. Writing is how I process things, whether or not I actually share the writing.

When someone says “sorry for your loss,” I feel guilty for feeling so sad. Guilt over sadness is a new and weird one. But I do (strangely) feel so guilty about my sadness. It isn’t as if she was my best friend or a family member. She was a good friend who I cared a lot about and someone I would have liked to be closer with (I have a few things here of hers that she’ll never be able to get - because we couldn’t coordinate a time even though we live around the corner from each other). But I think about what her BEST friends are going through and all I want to do is cry. It’s hard to process and I tell myself I am being stupid for being so sad.

Still, I don’t remember the last time I felt so sad. I think the guilt is a trick my brain is playing on me. Perhaps it’s a coping mechanism, telling me I shouldn’t be this sad, like it isn’t a big deal (when in fact it is a huge fucken deal). Does that make sense? So I’ll catch myself starting to cry and then the little voice in my head will tell me to stop, that I’m being dumb. Maybe that’s a part of the process – it’s all still very hard to even comprehend.

I’m very lucky in that I’ve never lost someone I’m close to besides a grandparent. I didn’t cope very well with it at all. Grief is so sneaky; and this was pretty terrible especially as it was so sudden and unexpected.

WITH EVERY BLOG POST I TRY TO THINK, WHAT’S THE LESSON, WHAT’S THE TAKEAWAY?

There isn’t really one. How do you distill the death of such an incredible person into a simple soundbite? UGH. You can’t, and it would be disgusting to even try. All I can do is share my experience and hope that maybe it helps someone going through something similar (because someone always is going through something similar). But I did have two realizations that I want to share.

- In my own life, I want to be more like Sarah. I can be introverted at times and like to stick to just the people I know, but I would like to be the person who takes a genuine interest in everyone in the room, who makes every person at the party or dinner or whatever feel valued and important. I want to bring more light and happiness to wherever I am – even if I am feeling insecure or nervous, I want to bring out the best in people. 

That was what Sarah did… and that is how we will all be remembered in the end. People say this all the time but people aren’t going to remember how good you are at your job, how you stayed up late answering every email… they’ll remember how you made them feel. That’s the thing that really matters.

- The more obvious one and what I hope that you, the reader, takes away is this: Never worry about being too effusive. Always tell your friends how much you love them and be sure to hug them. Because you never know when they will be gone and you won’t have the chance. People say this all the time too, and I’ve always tried to make the people I feel closest with feel loved and important. But you really just never know what will happen. So hug your people tight and do it often and don’t hold back.

*i apologize for any errors, spelling or grammatical, I’m sure Sarah is marking this post up right now.

I'm sharing this GoFundMe page, in hopes that you might feel moved and able to contribute to this her son’s scholarship. Sarah's close friends have arranged this for him.

There is also a Meal Train that has been started, if you’re interested in helping by providing a meal (or gift card), shoot me a private message and I’ll send you think link.

Till we meet again Jonesey!