Jane Is Dead
By Kit-Bacon Gressitt
My friend Jane is dead. She had adrenal cancer, belatedly diagnosed — stupid doctor. And adrenal cancer really sucks. What cancer doesn’t? But the deadly cells that take over your adrenal glands and then gentrify every damn neighborhood in your body, one organ after another, they’re a bunch of snotty little elitist bastards. I’d rather someone else would have had it, someone I don’t know.
OK, I’m a bitch, an honest bitch. And I love my friend Jane.
Loved her. Love her. Loved her. I guess.
At what point does a dead person enter into one’s past tense? Still, I smell my father walking around a corner and turn to hug the empty space before my heart. Still, I reach for the phone to share with him a newly discovered word, some clever inanity. Oh, not as frequently as I used to, but still — and he’s been dead since 1996.
Jane, she just died, so I figure I’ll be smelling her for a long time to come. I hope so. I hope.
I hope she didn’t know, know that she was actually dying, at that moment, that moment she had staved off with every iota of her will. And Jane’s will is formidable.
Was. Is. Was. I don’t know.
I do know Jane didn’t want to die. She wasn’t ready. She spurned tradition and protested death with the same passion she protested misogyny, inequity, racism, idiocy. She was not inclined to speculate on an afterlife when she had a perfectly good life here and now. So Jane tried everything — and I mean every fucking thing. But money can’t buy you life. Or love. Or being remembered. But Jane wanted that, all of it. And she deserves it.
Deserved it. Deserves it. Deserved it. Oh, whatever.
My friend Jane adored the family and friends she loved to bitch about, with the joy and humor and generosity of a — hmmm, is there a Yiddish word for a female mensch? Maybe it should be “Jane.” She’d have a good laugh over that.
Jane could laugh about anything. Eventually. She laughed when she dropped her bloomers and yanked up her bra to show off her new body. She laughed when the old one found its way home. She laughed when our petite comrade in choice — in the roar of menopause — tried to go nose-to-nose with six feet of angry, male anti-abortion protester. She laughed when we shared sneeze-induced pee-leakage stories. She laughed when her erotic fiction made me wet. She even managed to laugh darkly at the prospect of burying her daughter. She laughed bawls of relief when that fear took a hike. And she laughed when the cancer reduced her to the size she’d always wanted to be.
And now Jane is dead. Dead and gone. Or not gone. Who knows.
And I’m trying to laugh, trying to hear her laugh, trying to find some black humor that would have made her laugh.
I hang up on the Jane news, wander outside, maybe catch a glimpse of her in the pool.
But no, it’s a salamander, a slim wee salamander, perished in the depths. I want to save it — screw it, that it’s probably too late. I grab the skimmer and scoop up its remains, to give it a proper burial, at least, and I contemplate the creature up close, intimate, within smelling 
distance of its putrefying flesh. Then the little bugger wiggles a leg at me, and I jump as pee runs down my thigh.
No matter. I’m jubilant the salamander is alive. I’ve saved it! I’ve saved it even if it didn’t need saving, and I’ll give it a safe and accommodating home in one of the sodden potted palms, figure out what it eats, name it, name it Wendy, Jane’s middle name, Wendy the salamander.
I shake the twitchy thing into the plant, squat down low, and stare at it, stare into dark, unblinking eyes, the eyes of those distracted by death, distracted by morphine cocktails.
A gush of sorrow chokes me. I sit down hard and cry.
Jane, she’d be laughing at the pee running down my leg. But she cannot be saved.
My friend Jane is dead. Long live Jane!
Love,
K-B
For Jane, who would be remembered, hence the Jane Schnall Summer Camp Scholarship.
©2010 Kit-Bacon Gressitt
Tears run down my cheek – I don’t think I ever met Jane unless you introduced me once upon a time but now I know her and love her – we need more Janes to make this world a happier place and more K-B’s to write about them.
Thanks for making me cry!
Long Live Jane — General Jane as we called her— thanks for your amazing way with words— you did Jane proud …
This one is so open so vulnerable so right into your heart, split open your soul and examine grief. I lost my dear friend Linda Thompson this week one of the world’s best artists who specialized in dolphins and manatees and beat breast cancer twice, 20 years apart, she was a light and I will miss her ….her paintings are above my computer. Thank you for voicing how I feel right now. Love Lis
I’m sorry to hear that, Lisa. Coffee one day this week? Tea? Tequila?
Love,
K-B
When a loved one cannot stay, the people who are left to sink or swim in the wake of the loss are the worst off. I am so sorry that Jane got pulled over the line. The emotion in this piece is aching. So sad. So sorry. I think I may know Jane but wonder if we have dined together.
Love you K-B
Shari
Yes, I think we did, many moons ago, maybe twice.
Thanks, Shari.
Love,
K-B
K-B, thank you for writing about Jane. I’m crying again, but it’s OK. Jane is an amazing woman who deserves to be written about by an amazing woman. Was/deserved. Is/deserves. You know what I mean. ¡Viva Jane!
Thank you, K-B. A touching tribute that brought tears to my eyes.
K-B, a wonderful tribute to someone who was obviously a wonderful human being. I hope that the good memories you cherish will help ease the sorrow of your loss.
Jane, we never met, but reading about your laughter and your passion will inspire me to live each day with just a little more of each.
Ann
I recall meeting Jane eons ago and she was everything you portrayed her to be. I am sorry for your loss. Losing a friend that you love so well is very difficult – maybe that Wendy the Salamander will continue to cheer you up OR give me a call and we can do wine, chocolate and possibly food!
and even with your deep sorrow making your every breath a heavy one, you still have the strength to laugh and try not to pee, and embrace your dear friend in the fond memories she has left you with. that is so kbg. true friends never really leave, they just leave us behind. and i would like to believe jane is upstairs saving you a good seat in the next forum for your musings. please know that you are loved by many kbg….and that is truely heavenly.
All three sounds good, Maureen. Sometimes more really is better!
Thanks, Kevin. … If your belief is true, Jane’ll be saving great fucking seats. There, got another F-word in.
Dear KB,
Grieve not,
For I am still at your side,
laced through your ribs,
reaching for your heart.
the pondering pool
I love this one. I am so sorry for your loss
Thank you, K-B, for this beautiful tribute to Jane. I laughed , i cried while reading it, feeling Jane’s grand presence. And I heard her laughter as I laughed, and i saw her humbly grateful for the honor and love you declared for her.
yes! long live Jane.
thank you.
K-B, Thank you so much for sharing your memories of Jane. She was an incredible force of nature, and I feel privileged to have shared a small moment in her light. We used to joke that she may have been a pain, but was never a bore. How right she was.
I miss her terribly and would love to hear her hearty laugh one more time.
Hope you are well, thanks again
Hello, Guy!
Jane is certainly missed by many — it’s nice to confirm you are among us. I hope you are well and happy?
Take care,
K-B
Jane I will miss you something fierce…That smile and those blue eyes…and your contagious laugh…
Lisa
I wish I had met Jane. I wish you didn’t live in California K-B, so that we could talk about stuff. It was a pleasure to see you again last week. Your writing has a certain sense about it that makes you feel as if we are sitting next to each other and I can see the emotion in your face, and hear the sound of your voice, and it’s intonations. I had to smile as you spoke about your Dad. The kind of person you meet, and you can always bring him to the front of your thoughts as if it was just today that you met.
Thank you for this. It puts me in touch with the ones no longer here.
Hi, Ralph!
I’m glad you like Jane’s piece. It’s one of my favorites, as was she.
It was great fun seeing you in NJ. It’s always a treat to revisit the past and find it becoming present — very cool! Perhaps we can cross paths again on my next visit out.
Love,
K-B
I still miss her.
Thank you, Thank you, for the awesome memories, words, and the love you all gave my “favorite” Mother in Law Jane. She truely has some great friends that made her day when you called, visited and sent cards. I will always be greatful to you for giving her comfort.
Best in Life
John Hallal
Hi, John. I’m so happy to see your name. We think of Jane — and you and Sigal — often and fondly.
Lots of love,
K-B
Kit, darling,
If you could package and be remunerated for your power to bring grown men to full wiggling puddles of weeping worthlessness, you’d be a rich girl.
And yeah, I miss calling Father on a whim to have him explain spherical trig, Velicovski’s take on creation, or how to carve a dovetail.
Gotta go blow my nose.
Fick, can’r sww yhe leygoard…
pove yoi/
D