One Year

It has been a year. I miss her. I think about her a lot.

In Honor of Susan

It seems so unfair that life goes on when she is not here. I have thought of her often over the past year. I think of her every time I drive past the left turn I used to take to her house. I think of her when I see a full moon. I think of her every time one of my kids asks me a science question that I don’t know the answer to but that she would have. I think of her at random times when my mind wanders.

I miss laughing with her. I miss going to her house with Big Gulps for each of us. I miss the way she used her hands to demonstrate whatever scientific principle she was explaining. I miss how encouraging she was of her friends. I miss how much she believed in everyone. I miss how she held friends together. I miss her smile.

There have been many things I wanted to share with her in the past year. I wanted to tell her about my Asperger’s diagnosis. I think she would have been amazing about it. I wanted to tell her how well Jack was doing. She was one of his biggest cheerleaders. I wanted to put her name on a list of references for an application I filled out. I wanted to ask her advice about so many things. I wanted to chat about books and movies and blogs and the tremendous good and energy that she put into the world.

I missed her so terribly after I ran my 8k in September. When I posted on Facebook that I had finished the race, something that was a challenge for me, a mutual friend commented, “As Susan would have said, ‘Of course you did.'” Exactly. Exactly. I miss her.

One of the last times Susan and I sat and chatted, a rotating prism that her husband had bought her was twirling in the sunlight, covering her in rainbows. That is one of the way I like to remember her: shining like a rainbow; strong and nuanced like the cratered, slate-colored moon; and gorgeous as her amazing smile.

No post about Susan can ever do her justice or express the enormity of her loss.

I always love you, Susan.

As Susan’s friends remember her today, consider furthering her legacy through a contribution to the Inflammatory Breast Cancer Research Foundation or the American Cancer Society.

Please join bloggers throughout the web in honoring Susan Niebur’s life and contributions with a post, and please add your link below.

15 thoughts on “One Year

  1. Oh, this is such a gorgeous tribute to her and you and your friendship. I want to give you such a hug and now I’m crying at work.

  2. I can’t add a link, but I did add a chapter to my Egret V1 book dedicated to her. When I had Egret Dance with the rabbit on the full moon it was written with her in mind. I also loved the idea of the Rabbit always looking down on Egret.

  3. I never met Susan, but I was always so moved by her words and grace. I am sorry for your loss, Jean. Love and hugs to you.

  4. Your and Susan’s friendship is magical, special, and I believe it transcends time and dimensions. Watching you two laugh together was beautiful. Thank you for welcoming me into your circle.

  5. Jean! I love this. I can hear your voice, and I see Susan smiling. Those Big Gulps. You two!! And that prism in her bedroom. I remember– and smile. . . but part of me also wants to sob. Thank you for this.

  6. On the whiteboard in my office, where I do science, one of the best things Susan ever said to me is written: “We need more Legos to solve this problem.” It will stay there forever. She is sorely missed and the world is a darker place without her.

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