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Description
Her jaw was perfect, actually perfect.

It was a bright and sunny Friday afternoon the day they found her. She had been missing since Tuesday morning. I got the call you never want to get. Some friends found her body among the rocks on the shore below Lands End, her injuries were consistent with a fall. I didn't believe it was her. I don't remember how I got to the beach, but I was there when she was pulled out of the rocky shore by helicopter. The dead do not look like the living, but it was her. She was wrapped in a brown waxy body bag. I could see the streaks of gray in her wet sandy hair. Her face was bruised, and her perfect jaw was broken. Her lips were parted, and she did not breath, but I was sure I could here her singing. I was in shock, my friend, my love, my companion, my measure, was dead. How, and with what, would I weigh and measure myself now? Ravens flew into the sky and she was everywhere all at once, like God, like the Goddess. Where in my world did her death make sense? Does it make sense in the darkness surrounded by stars, trying to remember that she loved me? Does it make sense anywhere, to anyone? I was pounded by grief and humbled by my own powerlessness. I could not save her, I knew she was in danger and I could not save her. How will I live on? Will have the courage to stay in the world without her and see how my story ends or will I just end? I have no place in my heart that belongs to me. I have been spilled open onto this page, and like water I will blur the lines, and like water I will smudge the ink, and like water I will run down into the very dark places of the earth until I find the seed that needs my broken soul and maybe I can grow it. What kind of growth comes from a humbled friend?

I know words can not change her death or undo it. I have walked in darkness, and I wanted to die, and I almost did, but I never got a chance to bid you farewell Littlebird, and I mean to do so now.

This is one of my favorite photos of you, black & white, high contrast, no studio nonsense, gorilla style photography with a lamp and no shade, real film, and this is even a scan of a print. I loved taking your picture, I loved doing art with you. You were a good friend to me, you saved my life in so many ways. I am so thankful, so very grateful to have known you. I followed our dreams & plans, I did not give up, even though I wanted to many times. I left my evil job, ventured out on my own, and started training and walking dogs, instead of dying with you. Now, six years later, I have a thriving growing business with two wonderful business partners. Recently, a friend who liked the way I worked with dogs and children in my community bought a commercial building for me to run that dog training school we dreamed of in! I think you would be proud. I miss and love you. I constantly think how you should be here doing this with me. You were one of the kindest people I ever met. An amazing artist, and an incredible subject to photograph. Thank you for everything, but mostly for loving me even with all my faults.. It no longer matters who or what we were to each other, all that matters is the love and the laughter, the dreams and the passion, the sweet songs you sang to me and the way you held me and just let me cry. Farewell Littlebird, rest in peace.

Amy Caroline Nuara was born March 16th, 1973 and died August 6th, 2003

She was also known as Littlebird, Peter Pan, and H'amy.
I took this picture in the winter of 1998.

In death she taught me to live.

submission for: Just Part of Life: Bidding Farewell

Description
Her jaw was perfect, actually perfect.

It was a bright and sunny Friday afternoon the day they found her. She had been missing since Tuesday morning. I got the call you never want to get. Some friends found her body among the rocks on the shore below Lands End, her injuries were consistent with a fall. I didn't believe it was her. I don't remember how I got to the beach, but I was there when she was pulled out of the rocky shore by helicopter. The dead do not look like the living, but it was her. She was wrapped in a brown waxy body bag. I could see the streaks of gray in her wet sandy hair. Her face was bruised, and her perfect jaw was broken. Her lips were parted, and she did not breath, but I was sure I could here her singing. I was in shock, my friend, my love, my companion, my measure, was dead. How, and with what, would I weigh and measure myself now? Ravens flew into the sky and she was everywhere all at once, like God, like the Goddess. Where in my world did her death make sense? Does it make sense in the darkness surrounded by stars, trying to remember that she loved me? Does it make sense anywhere, to anyone? I was pounded by grief and humbled by my own powerlessness. I could not save her, I knew she was in danger and I could not save her. How will I live on? Will have the courage to stay in the world without her and see how my story ends or will I just end? I have no place in my heart that belongs to me. I have been spilled open onto this page, and like water I will blur the lines, and like water I will smudge the ink, and like water I will run down into the very dark places of the earth until I find the seed that needs my broken soul and maybe I can grow it. What kind of growth comes from a humbled friend?

I know words can not change her death or undo it. I have walked in darkness, and I wanted to die, and I almost did, but I never got a chance to bid you farewell Littlebird, and I mean to do so now.

This is one of my favorite photos of you, black & white, high contrast, no studio nonsense, gorilla style photography with a lamp and no shade, real film, and this is even a scan of a print. I loved taking your picture, I loved doing art with you. You were a good friend to me, you saved my life in so many ways. I am so thankful, so very grateful to have known you. I followed our dreams & plans, I did not give up, even though I wanted to many times. I left my evil job, ventured out on my own, and started training and walking dogs, instead of dying with you. Now, six years later, I have a thriving growing business with two wonderful business partners. Recently, a friend who liked the way I worked with dogs and children in my community bought a commercial building for me to run that dog training school we dreamed of in! I think you would be proud. I miss and love you. I constantly think how you should be here doing this with me. You were one of the kindest people I ever met. An amazing artist, and an incredible subject to photograph. Thank you for everything, but mostly for loving me even with all my faults.. It no longer matters who or what we were to each other, all that matters is the love and the laughter, the dreams and the passion, the sweet songs you sang to me and the way you held me and just let me cry. Farewell Littlebird, rest in peace.

Amy Caroline Nuara was born March 16th, 1973 and died August 6th, 2003

She was also known as Littlebird, Peter Pan, and H'amy.
I took this picture in the winter of 1998.

In death she taught me to live.

submission for: Just Part of Life: Bidding Farewell