Dear Diane,

We lost you about one year ago.  I remember where I was when I answered that call and trying to keep my shocked self together at the office because I couldn’t say the words out loud.  It didn’t last for long; I cried all the way to town and even more when I met up with our language group.  I was angry at myself for taking your surgery so lightly because I felt like I failed you in meeting your greatest need when you had been there for me. 

Your memorial service has haunted me.  Yes, we had a…somewhat disastrous…ceremony to honor your life.  The best parts were the lighting of candles that we stuck in buckets full of sand (but blew out instantly because it was so windy outside) and the time set aside for sharing memories of you.  Everyone knew we were close.  But I didn’t know what to say.  So I stayed silent because I wasn’t sure how to share you with our cohort (or at all).  It has taken me awhile but, after one year, I feel ready to make an attempt to put my memories of you into some sort of goodbye to pay tribute to the importance you played in my first few months of Peace Corps service and life.

Our friendship was written into history before we even landed in Uganda because we were assigned roommates for the first three weeks of pre-service training.  I can’t say that I was happy about this placement, but I believed that I could make anything work.  Although we had some very different character traits, I did appreciate the fact that neither of us went out to drink at night with the other trainees and did not pressure the other to go; we were content as we were in our room with silence between us.  We soon found out our site placements and I was a bit disappointed to learn that we were going to be living in the same town because I was not expecting to have more interactions with you outside of those three weeks. 

I know that you knew you were not always the easiest person to get along with, especially in times of stress.  If there was a specific point in time where I saw you the most stressed, it was during our one month of language training.  I get the whole acting-out-of-stress reasoning for behavior, but there is only so much one girl can take onto herself.  It was very clear that you were upset with the others in our group for how they treated you, but I was equally frustrated with them too.  Every time we had to split into pairs, me and you always ended up as partners.  Did no one in our group think of what this was also doing to me?  But I sucked it up because, despite it all, we had been abandoned together and the others weren’t necessarily on my good side at the time. 

Our host families were very close to one another because we were in the same village.  I will never forget the time that I didn’t know how to get home and you volunteered to take me back.  You didn’t actually know how to get to my house, either, but you convinced me that you had a general idea of where it was located.  We ended up roaming in the village for an hour with misguided sense of direction, no where near my host home, until I finally convinced you to give up and take me to your host mom so that she could show me the way home.  I was so angry at you for our adventure and you knew it, too.  Not enough time had passed for that story to make me smile, but I wanted to let you know that I now laugh at the memory and it is one of my favorite times with you.

Just when I thought I had enough of being around you, I was informed that we were going to be roommates for the next two years.  Please try to see it from my perspective how it was not necessarily the most welcomed news.  And although I panicked for a little bit while you were excited and asked me if I would cook or wanted a cat, I, once again, decided I could make it work.  In the end, the plan fell apart and we never really discussed too much into why it didn’t work out.  A staff member approached me with his concerns about this living arrangement and I ultimately agreed with his judgment that it could get complicated between two volunteers living together for two years. 

It’s funny how things work out because I ended up living with you anyway…for two weeks at least.  You were very open about it.  I thought there may be some bad blood between us because we didn’t end up as roommates and you got the house while I got sick in a hotel room, but I felt nothing of that sort once I was in your home.  It felt like I was dying from a stomach bug and you looked out for me in such a sincere way.  You may not remember, but you bought me a brownie and it touched me that you would be thinking of me.  Your hospitality towards me during those two weeks was the epitome of your generosity; I wish more people could have seen this side of you.  And although we had been forced together by so many outside circumstances, a real friendship began to form.

After I left your house, I never once felt unwelcome there because you gave me that spare key and you were always inviting me over.  I wasn’t always at your house, but I did spend quite a bit of time there.  From the tea party with your friends to the attempt we made at creating a permagarden, and all of the times in between, your home was a safe space for me.  You were okay with me coming over to simply chill and never made me feel bad about not going out to party.  I was social in the way that I wanted to be social because I was free to be myself around you, which is why you made such a good friend. 

I truly believed that I had failed you before your death.  We were busy at a training and I thought I would see you again the next week or so that I did not take the time to call you and check in.  I felt like the biggest jerk in the entire world.  The only thing that gave me peace after your death was going to your house with some Peace Corps staff to pack some of your things to send back to the US.  I felt relief in knowing that I could do this one thing for you.  I tried to make sure others were also given some of the things that stayed here because I know that, as generous as you were, you would have wanted your things to go to those you cared for and those who needed them.  Your house was by no means cleaned out, but your essence was gone.  And don’t worry!  Your cat is fine.  I took care of your “independence day” kittens for as long as I could and Kelly took them to her site when it was no longer possible to keep them at your house.  We found homes for the kittens and your cat (who we all call “mama cat” now) still lives at her site and had two more litters.

I still remember your love for tomato pesto, Trader Joe’s, lemonade, every appliance that made your life easier, and, of course, your son.  Diane, I wish I would have had the chance to tell you how important you were to me when you were in my life.  I knew that I was important to you, but I didn’t realize how important you were to me until you were gone.  Maybe it was hard for me to admit at the time because you had a tendency to be so freakin’ difficult from time to time, but you were one of my best friends.  You reminded me that even difficult people deserve to have friends and can make great ones when given the chance. 

I miss you.  There are times when I wonder what it would be like if you were still alive and with me here today.  Would you be annoyed that the road by your house hasn’t yet been paved by all of the roads on my side of the Division are just about finished?  Would you have introduced me to your son and would he remind me of you?  Would we be better friends today than we were one year ago?  There are many unanswered questions, but this I know for sure:  I am so sad that we were robbed of our chance to have a more meaningful friendship. 

May we meet again,

Emilia

DISCLAIMER: The contents of this website are mine personally and do not reflect any position of the U.S. government or the Peace Corps.