I’ve been carrying a torch for someone since 2006, and I learned recently that she’s dead.

B died in March. I found out last Friday, September 23. I was feeling nostalgic and wanted to see what she was up to on social media. I came across a post from her husband asking for his family’s privacy to be respected after B’s sudden death.

I was 24 when I met B, and she was around the same age. We were staying at the Netherlands location of the L’Abri Fellowship¹, in Eck en Wiel.

B introduced herself as a writer. I introduced myself as a failed minister and armchair theologian, and also as a writer.

B and I were quick nemeses. I was undiagnosed ADHD, she was whatever she was, and also brilliant. My ego was bold but hadn’t seen combat yet. Her ego was a war hero².

Every day we’d argue at breakfast, at morning tea, at lunch, at afternoon tea, at dinner, and after dinner. We’d argue about anything, it didn’t matter what, and we didn’t need to believe in any of it. We just enjoyed antagonizing one another.

At night, occasionally, we’d drink at the local café, or buy beer at a lower price from the Super de Boer³ and drink in the gazebo in the center of town.

We grew to respect and trust one another. After about a month since meeting, we swapped laptops and read each other’s work.

B’s novel was fucking fantastic, and full of fantastic fucking. I told her I loved it too much to be able to think of a thing to say about it besides that I loved it.

B said nice things about mine. But I knew after reading hers that mine was shit and she was being generous⁴. Actually, if I recall correctly, she was careful – she praised my writing for its lack of spelling and grammatical errors, only.

For three months and change, B and I fought and bonded over all the trivial and meaningful things in our lives. We had some flirtations, but all were side effects of connecting with someone else on the same wavelength for the first time in a long time.

We were young and depressed millennials in the second year of G.W.’s second term, incorrectly assuming we would never be more ashamed of our country, trying to outdo each other with jokes about our unceasing series of existential crises.

I have thought about B most days since I kissed her on the forehead as she was waking up and said, “Goodbye, I’ll miss you,” and left L’Abri for home.

We knew we’d probably never see each other again, but I hoped we were wrong. Oof. That hurts.

Whenever I see a gazebo, drink a Belgian beer, think of Eck en Wiel or Utrecht, listen to Cat Power or to Feist, see an ad for WoW, or sit by a fire, at least, I think about B.

I’ve been that way for 16 years, even when I was married, but of course I never admitted it to my ex-wife.

I missed B. I missed the first friend I ever made who saw me more clearly than I saw myself, and whom I saw more clearly than I’d seen anyone.

I think I’ll keep on missing B. I don’t think I know how to mourn, generally, so that may be my only option.

B, I assume you’re gone now, not anywhere, not anything, like we talked about on those late nights at L’Abri, but on the off-chance we were wrong, and you can read this, I want you to know, I know I got some key details wrong, I did it on purpose, and, if you don’t like it, you should speak up. Goodbye, my friend.

1. An evangelical Christian organization that follows the example set by its founder, theologian, Francis Schaeffer, who believed in the dignity of all humans and who emphasized hospitality as a means of evangelism.
2. The most boss move anyone has ever pulled on me was when B snatched my iPod from my hands, scrolled through my library while making barely any changes to her facial expression, except for the occasional condescending smirk, then gently passed it back to me and said, “Not bad.”
3. I just looked up Super de Boer and learned they ceased operations in 2012, which is an extra, but significantly more minor bummer.
4. Fortunately, my laptop was stolen a few weeks later, so I no longer have evidence of the novel I wrote just after I quit ministry, just as I was starting to lose my religion, and that was all about how non-denominational churches punish critical thinking.