Susan Alice Shelley – 12/2/1964 – 2/21/2007

People living deeply have no fear of death.
— Anais Nin

     Just forty-eight hours ago, I was sitting down to write about what great friends I have.  Mere moments after writing, “Pirates never die,” I received a phone call which showed that the world had decided to see just how much I really believed that.

     She was there one minute, laughing with us like no tomorrow.

     And then she wasn’t.

     We’d met before, briefly, some fifteen years ago.  We knew the same towns, some of the same people.  And when she showed up again last year, it was all so familiar … hard and fast friends, an instant sister, that crazy gypsy, that Wicked Wench.
     It was only natural that I wrote her a testimonial a few months ago:

She’s an incredibly talented artist with a death-lock stranglehold on the eclectic. She’s all fun, all the time, complete with an infectious laugh that can change the mood of an entire bar!

     For those of us who’ve been around her, all we have to do is remember how she she lived: Like there’s no tomorrow.  Nothing left unsaid.  Nothing left undone.  No regrets.

     Laughing at every damn thing — like a bunch of kids with attention deficit disorder — certainly has its benefits.  I remember taking her out for her birthday that night with Niki, going to Market Square…

     Oooh, Kitty!

     (Maybe it’s Susan *grin* Besides, it’s only a 24-Bar Break)

     Pirates never die.

     I’ll write more on this later.

—–

     [5:34PM]

     Reason I waited?

     A pirate died.

     At 12:22 or so.

—–

     [11:34PM]

     Back on the track.

—–

     [2:21AM]

     We’re always there for each other.