This Is Going To Be Brief
We remembered Ivy yesterday.
It seems wrong to treat her memorial as something to report on, recounting who was there and what they said; we laughed and cried in equal measure, and that if there is any means to continue awareness past the death of our physical form, she felt a lot of love.
I will say this — for the past month, I have tried to express to people that didn’t know her (surprisingly, they do exist) what Ivy was like; I wrote that she didn’t wait to be an old woman to wear purple, but of late I’ve been saying that she approached life with a joy and love for everybody normally only seen in Mr Rogers or Dolly Parton. If the Lamedvavnik truly exist, she was in their number, one of the secret queens and kings of the world, making it a better place by her example. As usual, Rich Stevens had the right of it when he said she was just the most good hearted weirdo ever.
Goodbye, Ivy. You loved me and never failed to tell me so. I loved you, and never said it enough.
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