Janice Singh passed away the other day.
Don’t bother to Google her name; she wasn’t rich, or famous, or controversial. She was my friend, a good woman, a good mother who raised her daughters to be fine, intelligent, independent women. She left a large, loving family, and many friends, my self among them, who will miss her very much.
My heart has been heavy with sadness these past few days, and the sky has been appropriately somber, gray and cloudy.
Still life goes on, same as always, and I have a strong urge to go up on the roof and shout her name at the top of my voice, to remind a largely indifferent world that is has been diminished. It is less beautiful by one; less special by one; less wonderful and than it was, because one of the very best people it once had in it is gone.
Let this be my rooftop shout, and if you hear it please say a quick prayer for a brightly shining soul that has finished its work on Earth and moved on, and for the comfort of the family and friends who’s paths that soul helped light. Her name is Janice Singh, and she was my friend.