Our Friendship Has Always Existed
by Anna Neiman Passalacqua
Luke,
I sort of can’t believe that you won’t read this. Our friendship has always existed decade after decade and I wish I had had more time with you and the life you built as a grown up. It brings peace knowing that you were happy and had found your place in the world with your beloved life partner, Nicole.
We met as kids in South Fallsburg, New York. The summer we met, like the many that followed, was where we grew up together. Summers at the ashram, living our annual shifts. Someone used the word “cheesy” to describe your humor. That was always you. Fast, complete, kind, quirky, loving, beyond. Your community and chosen family eloquently draw on your powerful essence. I share in their love and admiration for you.
We visited each other in places we lived throughout the years. Mom’s place. Dad’s place. Mom’s house. Dad’s house. Our off-on-our-own-I’m-an-adult-now places in New York, San Francisco, Northampton.
My first trip to NYC without family was to see you. We were teenagers and I took the Greyhound bus into the city where you met me on the platform. I arrived with a migraine (I had never seen open fire in barrels with people standing around them growing up in Western Mass). We walked to Soho to your apartment on Mercer Street and you cared for me. The following day we went with your mom to see the Grapes of Wrath on Broadway. It was in previews, I believe. Before the show, I was pick-pocketed in the pizza joint we were in, while taking my hard-earned New York fund babysitting money out of my pocket to pay for my slice. In pure Luke-form, you ran after the person that swiped my cash out of my hand. For blocks you ran until they took a turn down an alley and you knew that you had done all that you could. You arrived back from your sprint, panting and disappointed that they got away. I love that you knew your power. The rest of our time together as teens, adolescents, and beyond bring many beautiful memories. But I wanted to remind you of this story because I think about it often and it exemplifies your kindness always.
I was talking with my mom, also a Barbara, this week after hearing the tragic news of your death. She recalled you the same way I do. “He was a bright light always.” Luke, you are one of those people that even in your brief time on this earth, created more light in more people’s lives than most do even when they live double as long.
I will miss your “happy birthday” texts and Facebook updates. This earth will never feel quite right without your physical being in it. I love you, Luke.
Puja for Luke in India