A dear friend of mine died this past weekend after a long battle with cancer. I'm overwhelmed with emotion right now; the pain of losing a friend, anger at such a bright, shining life cut so short, but also amazement at what a *life* she lived.
How can i even begin to describe her? Tessa was incredible beyond words. She was deeply caring, sincere, driven and accomplished, a wonderful friend and powerful inspiration to me.
Tessa will always be an inspiration to me. Just watching her take on life full force, every day, never accepting anything as "good enough", and doing it all with passion and grace and love. It shows what's possible when you put all of yourself into everything you do.
I'd like to share a few of my favorite memories and stories, because that's the best way i can think of to celebrate her life and our friendship.
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The first time i met Tessa was (of course) at a Thursday night swing dance in Champaign-Urbana back in 2004. It was a snowball/mixer song and i ended up dancing with her for the last two breaks (yes, we cheated). As the next song came on i started to go into wallflower mode, but she grabbed me again and said "C'mon. I don't sit out dances."
Indeed, i was to find out that she never sat out anything, least of all dances. She was never shy when it came to the dance floor. If she wanted to dance with you, she'd come and get you. Sometimes she'd catch me right as i was about to leave, and get me to stay for one more song. One time i'd already changed out of my dance shoes, but she made me put them back on and dance with her.
I also remember, early on, she used to good-naturedly demand "Hey, where's my dip?" at the end of songs.
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I saw her around the swing scene during that school year, but summer of 2005 was when we really became friends. She was taking the summer session of the lindy class i was TA'ing, so i saw her in class and at the weekly dances.
One evening after class, she said to me "I'm hungry; want to go to Burger King?" (This was back when there was one on Green Street). I actually did *not* want to go to Burger King, but i went along anyway, and i'm glad i did.
As i nibbled at a piece of apple pie and watched her tear through a burger, the conversation went from casual to meaningful, and the food run extended into a wonderful evening of hanging out, reading poetry, trading ideas, discussing one issue after another.
From my journal:
"And all the while we continued talking, really *talking*. Everything from casual topics (movies, dancing) to serious areas of a personal nature. Our respective passions for literature and music. Family. Friends. Childhood experiences, college roommates, work issues, our respective struggles on the social front. Through it all i realized that she was slowly opening up to me, sharing deep personal feelings and experiences, and listening (really *listening*) as i went into some of my own thoughts. It was the last thing i'd been expecting - having this turn into "the" talk; that first deep and meaningful conversation you have with someone, the one that diverges completely from previous interactions and marks the transition from casual acquaintance to a real friendship."
She'd mentioned before that she'd had cancer and had made a full recovery (in half of the expected time, by the way), but this night she explained about the surgery and recovery, and the resulting impact on her life and work. She even showed me part of her (award-winning) short story which was fueled by the experience. It really hit me - finding out not just about everything she'd gone through, but the way she *powered* her way through with her unique strength and determination and got back to where she wanted to be.
She also showed me her portfolio which detailed her art sculpture project. She started by explaining that after conquering the English department at UIUC, she'd decided to conquer the art department next. (She said this matter-of-factly, with no ego in sight).
Her sculpture was a huge arch, very carefully designed and built with levels of meaning which escape my memory now. She displayed it on the quad for a day - spanning the sidewalks which crisscross the green. The display also included accepting quotes from passers by on slips of paper. At the end of the day she went up to the Foellinger patio and shouted each of the quotes across the quad.
I'm not doing justice to her project; if anyone can describe it better, please feel free. (Also, if anyone has a copy of the article in the News Gazette covering her project, please let me know; i couldn't find it online). I was pretty much floored by the idea and implementation. This in concert with all i'd learned about her in those hours added a level of amazement to my respect and admiration.
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So the friendship grew over the summer with dance nights, a few dinners, a few movies (including "The Hours" and "Sylvia"; she filled me in with fascinating background information and some of her own insights).
One day she really surprised me. I was telling some story or another, and mentioned my mom. She asked "Why don't you ever talk about your dad?"
That simple question (along with the tone of her voice, the knowing look in her eyes) made me realize something: Tessa *listens* and *understands*. She picks up on subtle clues and figures things out. She already *knew* why i don't speak of my father, even though i'd never mentioned anything about it. And she cared enough to ask. Tessa is one of the few friends i have who can not only read me like a book, but respond with empathy and understanding.
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I won't even try to do justice to her stunning academic accomplishments; instead i ask that you take a few minutes to read this piece by one of her professors. It's long, but absolutely worth reading (even/especially if you've never met her or didn't know her well):
http://www.open.salon.com/blog/libertarius/2009/08/16/goodbye_and_god_bless/
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The last time i saw Tessa in person was, appropriately, on the dance floor. She was back from England, having completed her Masters program as a Fulbright Scholar (along with many incredible adventures around Europe; she sent out mass emails along the way with awesome stories & photos). She made a trip down to Champaign-Urbana shortly before moving out to California to start her PhD program at U-C Irvine. This was actually right before i moved out to Cali myself to start a new job in the bay area.
We danced, we wished each other luck, we promised to keep in touch.
And keep in touch we did; exchanging emails, trading stories, making plans to go dancing "when i make it down to LA" or "when i visit San Francisco", respectively. Then suddenly she want off radar for a long time; at first i assumed she was just overbusy with school, but then i started to worry. Finally i received an email from her via her mom letting me know that the cancer had returned and that Tessa had moved back home for treatment.
The treatment and recovery were very difficult, of course, and it was quite a while before she was able to get online herself. But we eventually did get back to exchanging the occasional email, which was very nice. Her messages were always positive and focused, laced with her lovely wit and sense of humor. She'd ask me to tell her about what i'd been up to, and she'd describe her workout routine, her goals, the progress she was making. I told her that it was good to see that the Tessa Determination was still as strong as i remembered; she thanked me for reminding her.
The thought didn't really cross my mind that she wouldn't just recover again, setbacks or otherwise. Or maybe it did and i just couldn't accept the possibility, because in my heart...Tessa is one of the strongest people i've ever met; nothing could stop her.
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My life is better for having known Tessa. I miss her very much, but i continue to find inspiration from her example, and encouragement from memories and things she said to me. For example, i'd mentioned my fledgeling music project, and shared my first cover recording with her. The last message she sent me was this heartwarming response:
"Dear Neilam,
Big smile on my face . . . I like it
guitar rocked, your singing rocked and it was so good to hear your
voice, keep on rockin' in California
send more music--have you ever thought about doing an open mic?
lots of love,
Tessa
ps
if you come to visit please bring your guitar!"
I have more songs for you now, Tessa. I miss you, but i know you're in a better place now, and i hope you'll check on me from time to time.
In Loving Memory
Tessa Oberg
1983 - 2009
