Remembering Jo

Today was a sad day. A friend I loved left this world, and I wept tears of sorrow for a woman who's love for life always made me smile.

Since the first day we met, her kindness and generosity of heart touched me. Even though I was a young punk then, she had the unfailing ability to speak to me on equal terms, and she'd listen attentively and unjudgingly as I yapped about boys and parties and such, and we'd end up giggling away like girls in a candy store. As I grew up, we never did meet up that much, but every single time we did, those little rendezvous never failed to lift my spirits, and I'd always look forward to when we could meet, talk, catch up and laugh deliriously again.

I feel blessed to have been able to know her, and her dear hubby. Both of them were always tied to the hip, and I'd look upon them with so much admiration, wishing for the day when I'd meet my prince charming too, and live happily ever after, till we're both white in the hair, and holidaying the world, content on enjoying life and each other after collecting a lifetime of stories, just like them.

Then one day, I DID meet him. And I brought him home. And one of the first few people outside of the family who met him was dear Jo and Brian. She gave me a cheeky wink and a thumbs up as she kissed me goodbye after that meeting, and a year and a half later, we were married. Both of them played such a huge role in our wedding, and for that I'm eternally appreciative. After all, they were half family to us. But little did I know, after the last dinner we had after the wedding, it was the last time I'd ever see that gorgeous smiling face in person ever again.

Jo taught me so many things. But her biggest gift to me was her simple joy and appreciation for every single thing. Her smile could light up a million buildings, and just being around her was something indescribably beautiful. She may not be here physically anymore, but in my heart, she lives on as a beacon of light and hope to live a life truly worth living. And that smiles and kindness and goodness and humor will always get you by, cos in the end, that's what matters.

You will always be missed and remembered, dear Jo. And thank you for being the wonderful you that you were and will always be.

** Daddy told me not to be sad because that's not how you'd want us to be. So I wiped dry my tears, and we celebrated your life today instead, dear Jo. And over the seas, we toasted to you. Daddy with a glass of wine, me with a shot of Martini and William with a whiskey. You'd have been proud of us. And I like to think you were smiling on us as we did it. Your life was one worth living. Just the way you wanted.