I “met” Donimo online nine years ago. Soon after she asked if anyone in the UK would like a visitor and she and Sarah arrived on our doorstep to stay for a short while. To me, it was a bit like having some really interesting, creative and beautiful superstars turn up: Like Tilda Swinton and David Bowie rocking up and sitting down with you, and then realising that they actually like you and want to be friends. My partner Janice and I fed them Scots “Porage” oats and Yorkshire puddings and stinky cheeses. Donimo tried to get me to eat fruit with my cheese and was highly amused when I said I would really enjoy them much more if eaten separately! They brought us Chocolate Arts chocolates and a maplewood chopping board (yes, travelling light). We still use it all the time. Donimo and I spent most of a day reclined on our (then) new sofa, talking. It was too much at once for my ME-addled brain and I could barely remember afterwards all the ground we had covered, but I knew we had made a real connection.
I have never quite lost that feeling of being a little star-struck by both of them, and in Donimo I found someone to look up to and admire, as well as become close to: who helped me blossom and grow with her careful attention and by example. She polished me like a well-loved pebble. I feel I have lost one of my greatest cheerleaders. She amazed me over and over in her encouragement of my small acts of creativity, her nurturing of my self esteem and her unfailing ability to be there for me despite whatever pain and distress she was experiencing herself. She visibly worked so hard to be the best she could be, to treat others with openness, respect and kindness and this conscientiousness and consciousness shone out. I consider myself so blessed to have received some of her wholehearted attention and light. I know I also gave much back to her and it was an honour. We were a good fit. The distance didn’t matter.
Thinking about our friendship recently I realised that our shared experiences of ill-health were what made our initial connection, but it is so far down the list in terms of what comes to mind now. Yes, we supported each other through the daily grind of pain and illness and, along with Amy, helped keep each other going. We also didn’t dwell there. We shared so much; the playful and amusing, cultural and creative, and the minutiae of daily life to the deep and very meaningful. I feel that we could have kept talking for another decade or two and still not run out of things to say, or been bored for a minute. I also felt so safe and that nothing was off limits. If I expressed a half-formed idea it was not met with judgement, it was explored.
We shared a deep joy and meaning in observing small details, and in mindful appreciation. Possibly both as a result of learning over long years to survive with pain and illness and just as part of both of our intrinsic natures. This shared appreciation and reflection was nourishing. It was good to find a kindred spirit in this, even if I cannot smell the colour of roses as she said she could!
I should be feeling a vast emptiness in my heart now. I am certainly missing her deeply, but if anything I feel more full up to the brim than ever, with love and the many gifts she has given me over these years. I am left stronger and more able to live well, more focussed on what matters to me and better for knowing her.
We will all, who have rested in her loving gaze, carry these changes with us and they will continue to ripple out positively into the world. Thank you Donimo.