Mourning Stella Young

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I heard that Stella Young died while the sun was setting on our camp on the coast of Sinaloa, Mexico. The sky was exploding in a multitude of colours, all bright, all fiery. Like she was herself – bright and fiery.

It hit me hard. I lay awake with my children sleeping on and around me, feeling their bodies move with their breath,and thought of how Stella planned to have kids too. Thought of her letter to her older self. Thought of the stars in the sky and how I believe that she is now with them, one with the universe.

I woke up and was still thinking of her. I got out of bed without waking up the kids, slipped out of the camper and sat alone in the still of the dark before dawn.

The moon was full.

And I thought about Stella.

You know, I always thought I’d meet her. I really did.

She was so funny , fun and real to me, this sass-pants who got it. A woman who could articulate what we all felt, who coined the whole ‘Inspiration Porn‘ thing, who wrote like a wild woman, who raised awareness to whole ‘nother level, as a part of her being, it was who she was.

And we needed her! We need her still! So how can she be gone?!

WE NEED HER

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I’m still sitting here.

The air is moist, the sun has risen but not the kids. Yet.

Even as I believe in life after death and I believe that death is nothing so much as a drop in the bucket in the span of the eternity of our spirit, I mourn the loss of Stella.

I believe her spirit is with us and will always be, but I wish she could have stayed here longer.

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