18 Years! {But this one holds duality: so very special AND so very difficult}

 I try not to overdo the sappy Laniel Love Story as I have written about it many times. 

 Here. Here. Here.  and Here. 

(Probably other places too!)

But our Bar Bar anniversary hits different this time. 

The invisible string that brought us into that dive bar 18 years ago was instigated, pulled, and tugged by our dear friend Tina Gill. She was a true believer in Fate and knew that we are not defined by our past, but by the choices we make in the moment.

Brian and I can't talk about our "meet cute" story {am I too old to use that term?} without talking about Tina and her "subtle" persuasive ways that got me to step out of fear into possibility. She had already been instrumental in how I was reinventing myself after Matt's accident. She helped me see that grief was only one color in my story and so many more colors were ready to be seen if I took some risks to see them. 

At Tina's insistence, "showing off my new pair of smokin' hot shoes" on a random Friday night in April to see a friend's band at the dankest bar in town became one of my most colorful experiences to date.

{I can hear her laughing at me photoshopping her head into this picture from the 10-year party!}

Tina died on December 3rd, 2023. 

We were 8 months shy of knowing each other for 20 years.

She died from complications fighting cancer and the last 11 months of her life were filled with overwhelming moments of hope and devastation for all who knew her. 

One of her friends gave her books to read during Chemo. She often gave us book recommendations during this time, but one book in particular, she bought for me and told me I had to read because it was "perfect" for me and it reminded her of me. One afternoon after a rough day of Chemo, she slowly and carefully climbed our porch stairs with her partner Jeff so I could have a copy of the book she got especially for me.

 And while this slower and noticeably "weaker" Tina was there in front of me physically, I could see her firey spirit behind those eyes and the insistence that I have this book right then and there. It was an order from Tina, and you follow orders from Tina!

I read it in a day and bawled my eyes out. 

It was beautiful. 

I raved about it, told others to read it, and kept it in my pile of "special" books that I never lend out.

I was at the hospital when she died. She had complications during surgery and the surgeons did everything they could to save her but the damage was too severe. While the doctor was telling us this, I flashed to the book. 

Remarkably Bright Creatures. 

Tina. 
My Remarkably Bright Creature was gone? 

How?
How could this happen to her? It wasn't real. It was impossible.

Why? 
Why would this happen to our Tina?  My Tina.

Our Remarkably Bright Creature.

When she gave me the book she said it reminded her of me, but of course, it reminded me of her too. This "creature" is sometimes misunderstood and overlooked, but has 

So. 

Much.

To.

Say.

Tina said so much to me over the last 20 years. 

I am trying desperately to remember it all. 

{Another lol photoshop but with Lindz!}

Our years working together at the Artisan Center wrapping gift after gift using 3 pieces of tape and extra pretties for our favorite customers. Our years in our pseudo 'book club' called "Naughty Girls Club" where we exchanged "must have" products (I still use the press and seal Saran wrap she raved about in 2006!) and built lifelong friendships. Our years celebrating birthdays, holidays (Halloween parties!!), non-holidays, happy hours, lunches, and bar crawls. Our years texting each other random shit that was seemingly pointless and silly, but now utterly urgent and priceless. Our years remembering today--the day that changed my life.

 Our Tinaversary

She always got today and our wedding anniversary mixed up. She would inevitably text or call me and say "I can't believe you and Brian have been married ____ years! Congratulations!" And I would always tell her that we didn't get married on our meet day, even though we discussed it briefly. I told her that I will always, always, always be grateful for My Tina persuading me to go out that night in my new "hot" shoes and being my "wingman" in introducing "the girls" to Brian and encouraging me to give him my real phone number on a napkin. She'd laugh, her infectious laugh, and say, "Yeah, 'the girls' wink, wink. Brian still says he was drawn to your eyes, which is why I love you guys. Your love is real and you deserve each other. I am glad I am a part of your story."  

I am too, Tina, I am too. 

She gave a toast at our wedding, (which is another story!) and has been cheering us on ever since. 

She will forever be a part of us. 

Today is rough. More days like today will be rough. But I hold on to the advice I give others in times of unfathomable grief: There is hope in surprising places. Of course, Tina reminded me of this the other day when I was looking through my stack of books and saw one of  my dogeared pages in our book:

"Despite the darkness that surrounds us, a remarkably bright creature sees the glimmers of hope."

Eighteen years ago, this remarkably bright creature pushed me out of my comfort zone. Out of layers of grief I had been hiding under, out of all the wrong arms into that dive bar, into a technicolor world where glimmers of hope revealed themselves in new ways. 

I absolutely know that Tina will continue to do this. She's too damn stubborn and persistent not to! My Tina, with her infectious laugh and ability to talk loudly (literally and figuratively lol!), will show me that as a remarkably bright creature, all of us can see glimmers of hope. 

P.S. I wrote this post for Tina's birthday years ago. 

Everything still rings true. 

{This is from my 40th birthday. Tina was my stylist. She shopped for me to get the perfect outfit, hired a make-up artist to do my hair and make-up, and made me feel like Princess Kari.}