What makes the loss so profoundly painful is what was left unsaid and what was not done. There hangs over us a suffocating sense of “life is unfair” and yet Kyoko would be the first to say, that in place of this, there should be a firm commitment to stay positive, to slow down to see life as it is, not as we want it to be, imperfect but beautiful. I can distinctly hear Kyoko’s voice say my name in a way that no friend ever has, melodic, happy, and full of life. Even in our last conversation that was punctuated by intermittent coughing, her voice, demeanor, and disposition somehow evoked feelings of calm. She was graceful and beautiful and what made anyone want to sit next to her was a gentle spirit that was forgiving. I chose this picture because when looking over all of my pictures with Kyoko, I am sitting next to her, often leaning into her.
Kyoko was the friend who was always willing to try something new, even if the plan wasn’t perfect. There were so many times I would call to ask if she wanted to go on an adventure with me, and she always said yes, from outdoor food markets, Mexican beaches, water skiing in Valle de Bravo, Tecali – a town known for it’s marble many hours away from Mexico City - lunches in Polanco, San Angel, lunches and floating mariachis in Xochimilco, BBQ with friends, Desierto de los Leones, to our children’s birthday parties at places like La Granja. And from looking over pictures from many stages in her life, there is a common thread. Kyoko did not balk at change; she left Japan to study in the US, and she lived in Brazil, Washington D.C., Mexico, and London.
I had more plans and many adventures in mind for our families and even for just the two of us, and it is inconceivable that we are not going to raise our children together, laughing, crying, and supporting each other as good friends do. There is no denying that there is a void. I find my mind drifting during the day to her and wondering what more I could have done or what I could have said to strengthen her resolve, but I am comforted knowing that she knew how many of us loved her, albeit from afar.
My deepest condolences go to the three she loved the most. I witnessed, as so many have noted, a mother and wife who dedicated herself to the happiness and well-being of Ethan, Kaya, and Nate. Small gestures like preparing the best lunches in all of Mexico to the ultimate act of love, fighting to live. As I told Kyoko’s parents before I left London, I loved their daughter. She was kind, loyal, and beautiful. She will be missed.