Deea, we will miss you.

Last Monday I had lunch with an old work friend. She had looked at my photostream and had taken the time to type out a generous critique of my photos that stood out the most to her. She was a double-major in college; marketing and photography, combined with a keen aesthetic sense for composition and line, so I appreciated her feedback.

The conversation was lively and animated. She and her husband were planning on opening their wine bar the following Friday, they’d signed off on a new house – an old one, actually, with original woodwork and a wrap-around porch. But the thing that excited her most was that she’d recently taken an art class. We talked about the instructor’s technique of taking a picture to paint from and turning it upside-down, so that one could paint true color and form rather than get hung up on a preconceived notion of the thing itself. She’d taken the class at the James Cancer Hospital – a detail I chose to let pass, I told myself, out of respect for her privacy. Truth be told, it was a detail I was uncomfortable with because of the horror that lie behind it.

Deea's life was plagued with illness from a young age, though from her spirit and beaming smile, you would never have known it. I remember in the midst of a rather busy day, she stopped by to say hi, and we chatted about a friend of hers that suffered from depression with whom she’d recently had dinner. “I’ve never really understood depression,” she confessed to me. I must have looked at her blankly. After childhood leukemia, breast cancer, another onset of leukemia … she didn’t understand depression? Her indomitable spirit simply had no time for it.

I left work early on Friday, thinking about who/what I would shoot as my final photography project. As I was driving out, a fire truck was pulling in. I didn’t think much of it at the time. I only learned later that they were coming for Deea. But they were too late.

I like to think the angels needed a new recruit. There’s no other explanation.

Deea, you brought out the best in everyone you met, and will be seriously missed.

I debated the appropriateness of blogging about the passing of a dear friend, but reasoned that it’s no less appropriate than a newspaper article. While I try to focus my blog on art and photography, sometimes life interrupts.