A Memoir in Grief: Life 6 Months After Losing My Friend
Graphic by Anneli Paulson
Grief is a snake. It is the lump in our throats and the hollow hole punched into our chest. Six months ago, on June 1st, my friend Sophie died from injuries sustained in a motor vehicle accident. That day, I felt the snake of grief constrict around my throat, stealing all the words I wish I could tell her.
Sophie was my work bestie when we were Starbucks baristas back in high school. We weren’t just coworkers though, our friendship merely started there. We shared all our silly drama and the rollercoaster that was our high school relationships, joking around about the most mundane topics and supporting one another in times of serious life events.
Plenty of times, the back room of Starbucks became our therapy space. It was where we laughed, cried, mourned, ranted, and joked around. While Sophie was younger than me, I valued her insight immensely, viewing her as a big sister in a way.
Describing Sophie is a challenge because she encompasses so much. It was a rarity to see her upset as she had the toughest skin. She was honest and kind with a sharp character. The kind of sharpness you see in warriors: resilient, strong, quick-witted, and smart.
Sophie also had this lightness about her. When she walked into a room it was as if the gates of heaven had been opened and an angel was gifted to us. It was contagious, all-consuming, and truly beautiful to be around.
When I heard the news of her accident, I was robbed of my breath and thoughts. It was a reality I never could have imagined. Sophie O’Connor? My friend with a fire for a soul and contagious love? How could this happen?
A week or so prior, we talked about getting together for coffee and catching up. Both of us were eager to share the aspects of our lives we missed as I had just finished my first year of University and her senior year of high school.
But the accident cheated us of the opportunity. My emotions became the embodiment of an unsolved jigsaw puzzle, and I found myself in a state of ambivalence.
I was angry yet sad, wishful yet hopeless, and I prayed to any gods who would listen. Once she succumbed to her injuries, I spent nights rifling through all the memories and photos I had with her, desperate for something to be comforted by.
As I reflected, there was one distinct memory that came to me. It was a closing shift, and as usual, we were joking around and talking. Our conversation turned more serious as we discussed friends, life, and relationships. I sought her advice as I was always the one who couldn’t seem to let things go, while Sophie was excellent at rolling things off her back.
Sophie talked about how she simply wanted to enjoy life. In her words, “I just don’t give a f*ck.” She surrounded herself with people who gave and accepted love, found joy in the little things, never stressed over the mundane, and invested herself in moments that gave her life passion, purpose, and vibrance.
As time passed and her funeral came and went, I spent nights curled in a ball sobbing, wishing we could get coffee together one last time. I spent evenings sitting next to her grave or talking to the sunset, telling her what I couldn’t do in person. I pined over the old videos of us goofing off.
All the while I kept her advice close to my heart. Mourning is necessary when processing grief. But I knew Sophie would want me to continue finding joy in life.
From June 1, 2023, and on, I have actively chosen to live life the way Sophie had. Now, I take frequent hikes to watch the sunset – her favorite activity – at the top of the ski lift in my hometown.
I roll the insignificant drama of life off my back.
Take time to appreciate the mundane in a new light.
And take pictures of everything the way she had.
Adapting this way of living brought relief to the snake coiled around my throat. While I feel the pressure as I write this, Sophie’s memories put me at ease. Sharing her story, the way she lived life, and voicing how she spread love to every living being is how I keep her spirit alive and relieve my grief.
Sophie had this innate ability to create an everlasting impression on the lives of everyone she met. No doubt has she done the same for me.
Soph, I love and miss you with my whole being. I miss making every job a two-person task. I hear your laugh in my coworkers at the coffee shop where I now work, making whipped cream always reminds me of you. I feel your presence in the most beautiful sunsets.
Our friendship will always be cherished. I love you always and forever Soph.