Our friend Julie died in her sleep on Sunday morning. No-one had any warning or premonition that this might happen, so it's been deeply shocking. And heartbreakingly sad. Her husband Kim woke up to find his wife and love gone from this world. If I even try to imagine how this might feel, tears well up in my eyes. And the background fear I feel of losing those nearest returns as a feeling of panic and anxiety. Love always carries such a potential for loss and grief and Julie's passing has bought this back to me in a big way. Kim and all of Julie's family and friends have been uppermost in our thoughts this week. You wish there was something that you could do, but there isn't.
Julie didn't really like having her picture taken and I sneaked this one last April, when she and some other Mooks were in Melbourne for the Wilco concert. It's blurry and a bit dark, but in it I can hear her distinct voice talking about this and that. Enjoying the ambience of the Palais, rattling on, having a good natter. It was a rather good weekend that one. Anyway, as you can see, she's still young and full of life. Just a couple of years older than me. As well as being rather stylish (which I admired more than I ever said), Julie had a really kind heart. She also loved a party, being out and about with friends. Their home was more often than not the centre for gatherings and parties; full of warmth and hospitailty. And she loved her cats.
We'll be going to Hobart for the funeral this Friday. Sigh.