Andrea

Andrea Gibson died today. It’s the first time I cried about the death of someone I don’t know personally. One of the last things she said was “I fucking loved my life.”

Picture of Andrea from this IG post.

I didn’t care for poetry until Andrea. Their words helped me feel less alone in the depths of grief and gave me a glimmer of gratitude for the great fortune of experiencing life, even while crying on the bathroom floor or hunched over on a chair in the emergency room.

They had that magical combination of honesty, courage, and love that made me feel like I would be okay even when I wasn’t okay and nothing was okay and I was scared that nothing ever would be okay again.

Andrea gave me hope when I had none.

Below is my favorite poem. It was originally called “For Days I Stop Wanting A Body” and was renamed “Tincture.” Both apply today.

Tincture

by Andrea Gibson

Imagine, when a human dies,

the soul misses the body, actually grieves

the loss of its hands and all

they could hold. Misses the throa…