A friend died last weekend.
Lynn Ward had been a part of our writers group for years. From the beginning she’d been insightful and honest about all of our work, while favoring us with tales ranging from memory implants to a beautifully crafted battle of a wizard’s apprentice and her aging master against a horde of bandits with a cause.
Between the stories, Lynn’s no-nonsense tone for some of the… well, nonsense she dealt with was always a contrast to the kindness she had for us, and her unfailing support for her family.
And then, last week… she was gone. We’re still in shock.
I try to think of a reason, or a lesson, or anything to take from a tragedy like this. What I find is an irony: Lynn was just working her way into a shiny new novel that had what we all thought might be the perfect opening line:
“Beware Lord Barkin,” Ardath’s late mother Sela told her, for the fifth time. “He’s mad now.”
Now… it’s painfully perfect. And all I can think is, like Ardath, I’ll be listening for whenever the wind blows right to bring us a message. And wishing.