Dear Tasha

Dear Tasha,

I still have a very vivid memory of this time last year. You can’t easily forget such emotions. Above all, I remember thinking to myself “I want to fast-forward one year so I don’t have to endure this pain.” A full year later, I realize what a foolish wish that was, for I find myself very much in the same place now as I was then.

I also remember getting home after the funeral, and the days that followed, and what a strange feeling that was. It’s an unusual thing having to face the mundane routines of life – going to work, eating dinner, and watching television – in spite of the glaring absence of something that you thought would always be there, and something that was incredibly important.

About 10 months later, I found myself sitting on the hood of my car enjoying a beautiful sunrise. The morning chorus of birds had just begun, and I had the peculiar suspicion that they were singing directly to me. I’m not exactly sure why, but I thought of you, and something changed. It was as though the songs had faded, and instead there was an eerie silence. I began to cry as uncontrollably as the moment I got the phone call. The sunrise ceased to be beautiful – it appeared cruel, and my mind was filled with bitter thoughts – I wanted to shout “Why should the sun continue to rise, and why should the birds continue to sing, in a world where Tasha Barry no longer lives?!”

I sat for a long time, not knowing what to do. I put my hand in my pocket searching for a tissue, but I found something different. I froze for a moment, as if in shock. I closed my eyes and smiled, because what I had found made everything different. It was my camera. There it was, as if placed there by an angel, to remind me of what I already knew much deeper down - farther down than all the anger and sadness that I was feeling. It reminded me of you.

For me, this year has been marked by many such moments, Tasha. In the darkest depths of despair, the thing that always pulls me out is you. You alone. It was your beautiful spirit that, like the morning sunrise, I was lucky enough to glimpse.

Today I join all of your friends and family as we close our eyes and smile, for if we truly remember Tasha Eve Barry, we cannot help it.

With love from your friend,

  ~Andrew