Cal

A tribute

Like many many people (because she lit up the lives of many many people) I lost a friend yesterday.

The first time I met her wasn't really the first time I met her because as is the times we live in - we had already "met online".

We had talked about her son, my sons, her cats, my cats, life, love, all the good stuff.

Her first message to me simply bowled me over with kindness. Like being hit by a bus of loveliness. It came out of the blue and mutual gushing quickly gave way to a deep care for each other. And it's because of her that I was featured on that very famous podcast.

I had not known it was Very Famous and I'd assumed I would be speaking in front of 50 or so people - not a sold out arena, recorded and sent out to millions. She immediately clocked my nerves and hugged me tightly and said emphatically: YOU ARE GREAT. Which struck me at the time because it's just very kind.

It's not past or present, not contingent on performance - it just IS.

And soon we were dancing together on stage and singing I Will Survive.

I came to know that this is how she was with everyone. She built everyone up. Made them feel strong and loved and supported and special. She lifted people. Spoke your name in spaces you weren't in to celebrate you. She made you feel celebrated.

Over lockdown she was in touch a lot, she sent packages to my babies, sent love and solidarity. But she did this for so many people. She tried to bring joy and cheer to everyone - even people she had never met.

And she did. She brought so much joy.

She was delightful. When I think about her I smile involuntarily - what a thing! To be someone who makes people smile so easily. What a gift.

I was at a loss as to what to do with my tears when I learned she was gone - they just wouldn't stop. I took flowers down to the beach. The sun was out but the waves were angry.

I put the flowers in the water - I can't grow much, I had picked most of them from the side of the road. I knew she wouldn't mind.

But the flowers refused to be pulled into the sea. They stubbornly held fast to the rocky shore.

It was as if the ocean was saying - I'll take some of your grief but you have to hold the rest.

Hold this weight and know how lucky you are to have it.

It means you knew someone so deeply good - even for a short time - that you are now changed. Their goodness is not gone. Their legacy continues.

She is everywhere now and we will all carry her and each other - we will hold those who loved and knew her best, those who grew with her, those who learned with her, those who worked with her, those who simply adored her for her genuineness, or how impossibly funny she was, or how kind she was.

We will hold them and be like the ocean - helping them with their huge and painful grief. We will continue her mahi of lightness and joy. We will speak her name in celebration in spaces where her absence is felt the most.

There are many who hold this weight of grief now. And that weight is heavier for those who were lucky enough to know her longer than I did. And those who she loved most, (and oh how she loved them) her precious child and beloved husband, her closest friends and adored family.

We all carry now the grief of a life cut far too short. We all hold the knowledge that our world was better, kinder, brighter because it had Cal in it. And now she is gone and it doesn't feel real.

So we must return to what we know is real: Cal made choices every moment of every day to make the lives of others a little brighter. She chose joy. She chose laughter. She chose love. And she chose life.

That will not change. She is not here but her light remains.

We will nurture it, hold it, keep it - we were so lucky, so very lucky to have her in this world.

Rest in peace Cal - we will miss you forever.