Vanishing Point

I learned last week an old friend, someone I’d been very close to in our intense teenage years, someone whom I’d tried to keep track of in the years since, through difficulties we’d both suffered in our lives, had passed away suddenly. “Vanished” is the word that comes to mind when I think of her death.

I thought of the picture above because I shared it with her a week or two before I last heard from her. I mentioned my eye is always drawn to the vanishing point. “That’s otherworldly,” she said when she saw the image.

One moment this person was alive, someone I imagined myself speaking to in an endless conversation. “Endless” in the sense that you know their voice is out there in the world and you’re always happy to hear it again.

The next moment, they were part of the past, silenced, beyond reach except for wondering about their last days and months and all the parts of a life they’ll never get to tell me about.

In whatever world she finds herself now, or in no world at all, I hope she’s found peace.