Cary Moretti's Eulogy for Wendy
March 5, 1995

Dear Wendy,

You've been gone over a week now. I wish I could say that it hasn't seemed real ... but it has. I think about you alot, everyone does. You'd love what's happening here - most of it anyways. Only hours after your accident, it was all over the news. I was driving my car on the highway when I heard and I thought it was a mistake. I changed stations but it was the same story everywhere ... you'd been shot ... and they said you had died.

The whole rest of my day - the whole weekend - was a surreal mess. I called your hotel in Antigua but the phones weren't working so I sent a fax and your sister called me back to tell me the news. I guess I didn't really beleive it until Susan told me herself, you always seemed so indestructible to me.

Sunday was really strange, Brent was trying to get a flight in from Singapore. Cam got a hold of Kinney out in BC and Jim made arrangements to come in from Nova Scotia. Your grad picture was blown up huge on the cover of the SUN. Actually, it was as big as the Sunshine girl and you beat her out by 2 pages.

I went to visit your family and they gave me a postcard you had written a couple days earlier - what a bizarre thing - I wasn't sure if it was a good thing to get or not but I read it and it was really nice - it's one of those small things that I'll always have and always cherish.

There's so many things I want to tell you. I guess I have forever to do that now but it almost doesn't seem fair - you always wanted to get in the last word.

I've been thinking about our relationship - about the kind of relationship you had with all of your friends. I finally got to meet them all and it's been really great exchanging "Wendy" stories. I remember when we were kicked out of the Sheraton centre for blowing bubbles on the escalator. I remember calling you from bars when I was too drunk to stand up and leaving you messages on your machine. I used to pass the phone around so everyone there could leave you a message. I remember getting calls at one in the morning so you could read me pages out of your journal. I remember telling you about my girlfriends because I was so frustrated and the way you made it all sound so simple. I remember your book of Tao and arguments about God and the nature of good and evil that lasted way too long.

You've been so good to your friends. You really cared for us and we all loved you for it.

I've been talking with Kane and Cam alot - they're amazing people and they've helped me alot. Some friends at Cam's work have put some money together and dedicated part of a wilderness trail to you. Kane is setting up a home page on the Web where people can come and visit you. Keith has a stack of those pictures he took of you a while back. They had some up at the funeral home and we're going to scan some and put them in your home page too. It's kind of cool how many things your friends have that they want to contribute to your page. It's like that guy in Neuromancer we talked about - "Dixie Flatline". You'll be immortal in cyberspace, I think you'd like that.

Someone once said to me that the hardest part about losing a friend is losing their memories, the way they felt, the sound of their voice, their smile, their laugh, their smell ... I'll never forget you Wendy, your dimples, your patchouli, your hugs, and your bubbles.

I love you Wendy.


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