We lost dear Kristin Tillotson last week, and her ashes are being interred this weekend. The sadness falls, as always, on those of us left behind.
I’ve never read about the sundry stages of grief, believing that this is a highly personal ordeal and should not be categorized. But I know for sure, especially in this endlessly cruel year — “Fuck you, 2016,” the headline read on Deadspin the day Prince passed away — that regret is a humongo part of it for me.
That hit home when an even younger friend, the amazing force of nature Jim Ridley, slipped the surly bonds of Earth a month or so ago. I was told by a friend that Jim “idolized” me (it should have been the other way around), and it about killed me that I had not nurtured our friendship more fully.
The same goes for Kristin, including the force-of-nature thing, articulated much better than I can here and here. She always struck me as a smarter, less sullen Uma Thurman, and blessedly she wringed the absolute most out of her way-too-few years.
A friend and I were commiserating last week, and I mentioned having seen Kristin a month ago and agreeing that we were waaaaaay overdue for lunch. My friend said Kristin had invited her out to celebrate KT’s birthday, and she had declined. Our regret was palpable at each end of the phone line.
The point is, we really really REALLY need to not put ourselves in these situations. We need to avail ourselves of opportunities to spend time with those we love and/or admire, and not fall back on the excuse/rationale of being too busy or too tired or too whatever.
I’ve long had a tenet along the lines of “we’re going to have regrets about things we did, so try to avoid having regrets about things we DIDN’T do.” I have done a shitty job of living up to that.
I so SO wish I could have met Kristin for lunch, brunch or dinner at St. Genevieve. It’s completely her kind of place: very French, fabulous Champagne list and the embodiment of one of her very favorite phrases: mise en scène. Like the restaurant’s favored tipple, Kristin was lively, acerbic/acidic (but not too) and, yes, effervescent.
A perfect pairing of person and place.