Because I don't want the grisly way in which she died to overshadow the important person she was in life, I'd like to tell you about my dear friend, Susan. Not Sue or Susie. Susan was her given name and what she wanted to be called, and she would tell you so.
Did I ever tell her what she taught me about self-respect? I don't remember.
Susan always said hello and goodbye to me with a hug and the warmest smile. I always knew she really listened when we talked. She was never too busy or reserved to tell me she loved me.
I wonder now if she knew how special those simple things made me feel?
Susan told me of her dreams she reported them often and in great detail. I listened jealously to her nightly sojourns through the subconscious as she revealed to me her darkest fears and her wildest shimmering imaginings. How I envied those nocturnal adventures.
Did she know how I wished she could take me along?
Susan was a participant in life. You probably know of her activism and deep concern for town and environmental issues. Those were just the tip of the iceberg; she spent her whole life being conscientious. Her children were fed homemade baby food and home educated (not "schooled" - it's a Susan thing.) She baked bread and sewed clothes and grew a garden because she only wanted the purest and best for her family. She cared for both of her parents trough their final years for the same reason. She was a crusader in the best sense of the word.
Was she aware of what a difference she made in the lives of so many others?
We nicknamed her "Little Susan" at KMOG, because it seemed we always had more than one by that name. How wrong we were. There was nothing little about Susan, except her diminutive frame. She had a gigantic spirit, a huge heart, and her intellect was awesome to behold. Her true size can only be measured by the gaping hole her absence leaves in our everyday life. I will miss my friend, Susan.