A Shimmering Jewel in a Sea of Grey - RIP Rowan Neale
I was at work for 8:30am this morning, and stayed off Twitter for most of the day, even on my phone.
But that really isn't important.
When I turned on my phone with half an hour of work remaining, I found an e-mail that caused the world to spin and plummet away from me.
My dear friend from university, and on here, Rowan Neale, also known as Phoebe, Naus, or thrennion (until recently hippyjolteon) was killed in a train accident at Sunningdale railway station yesterday evening at about 6:30pm.
I'm not sure if it's sunk in yet. Rowan was such an amazing person, such a good friend, and someone who shimmered like a jewel of many colours in a sea of grey with their* wit, their writing, and most of all their personality, and that they can be gone just doesn't make sense in any way. I can't believe it whilst I know rationally it is the truth, and I'm left searching for words where there's big empty nothingness, but I know that being lost for words is something Rowan never was.
I met Rowan back in my first year of uni, and their first year. I saw this shy girl feeling out of place at a LGBT soc meeting, and so started chatting to them, and we got on well. I took them to Writers' Circle, where they flourished, and that's where many of my fondest memories come from. I remember late night talks after the circle where we'd discuss life, and I told them honestly how much potential I saw in them, potential that was realised in their recent authorship and direction of a play at Royal Holloway, their literature, and yet still had so much to offer. We shared a room on the WrCr trip to Wales, and I remember Rowan's glee at getting to hug Marcus Brigstock. Glee was something I often saw in Rowan - they were one of the most passionate people I knew, more alive than many of my friends, even in the darker times. We frequently met up to discuss odd things, or do poetry, and the last time I saw them in person was at a poetry event in London last Summer. Rowan is down on Facebook as confirmed as coming to my Birthday Party this weekend. We were going to have a big catch-up.I keep remembering the times we had together - so many - and it seems unreal that such times are now over. How can they really be dead?
I can hear them now in my mind, telling me bad puns, getting excited over U2 or Brian Eno, writing that special poetry that only Rowan could write and pull off, and so much more. It doesn't make sense that death was even possible for such a person.
Someone linked me to an article about their death, and it caused my blood to boil because it briefly mentioned the death of a '20-year old unidentified woman' and then went on and on about delayed commuters instead of the loss of someone so unique, so talented, my friend. Perspective be damned in this instance. An irreplaceable spark of energy, life, passion and laughter was wiped out, and I want the world to know.
I may not have been Rowan's closest friend, but they were extremely dear to me. I know I am not alone in having treasured Rowan as the special person they were, and my heart goes out to the many others touched by their loss, especially their parents and their long-term friends like reipan.
* = I'm using gender-neutral pronouns to respect Rowan, who was in the process of working out their own identity on (or off) the gender spectrum. Though Rowan was also used to being given female pronouns as Phoebe.
And as for me...
I'm in Leamington now...I fled up here at the advice of friends telling me I should be with loved ones, and I really didn't want to sleep alone tonight. Many many thanks to James too, who met me at short notice after work and provided both comfort and distractions for much of the evening, as well as hot chocolate and beautiful guitar music. It means a lot to have people who can help hold you together in such times - Rowan was one of these people with whom I had done just that before.
I'm going to work again tomorrow afternoon, because I do need to get back into the flow as quickly as possible, and it's a distraction, something to focus on. Today, I was too distracted for such a distraction, but at least my colleagues were wonderful in getting me tea, hugs and help when I burst out crying.
I want to write them a tribute, a farewell message on FB, but I just can't, not now. Words are precious. Rowan helped teach me the truth of that.
(Goes without saying, but please save any 'happy birthday' comments for a different post, thank you.)
But that really isn't important.
When I turned on my phone with half an hour of work remaining, I found an e-mail that caused the world to spin and plummet away from me.
My dear friend from university, and on here, Rowan Neale, also known as Phoebe, Naus, or thrennion (until recently hippyjolteon) was killed in a train accident at Sunningdale railway station yesterday evening at about 6:30pm.
I'm not sure if it's sunk in yet. Rowan was such an amazing person, such a good friend, and someone who shimmered like a jewel of many colours in a sea of grey with their* wit, their writing, and most of all their personality, and that they can be gone just doesn't make sense in any way. I can't believe it whilst I know rationally it is the truth, and I'm left searching for words where there's big empty nothingness, but I know that being lost for words is something Rowan never was.
I met Rowan back in my first year of uni, and their first year. I saw this shy girl feeling out of place at a LGBT soc meeting, and so started chatting to them, and we got on well. I took them to Writers' Circle, where they flourished, and that's where many of my fondest memories come from. I remember late night talks after the circle where we'd discuss life, and I told them honestly how much potential I saw in them, potential that was realised in their recent authorship and direction of a play at Royal Holloway, their literature, and yet still had so much to offer. We shared a room on the WrCr trip to Wales, and I remember Rowan's glee at getting to hug Marcus Brigstock. Glee was something I often saw in Rowan - they were one of the most passionate people I knew, more alive than many of my friends, even in the darker times. We frequently met up to discuss odd things, or do poetry, and the last time I saw them in person was at a poetry event in London last Summer. Rowan is down on Facebook as confirmed as coming to my Birthday Party this weekend. We were going to have a big catch-up.I keep remembering the times we had together - so many - and it seems unreal that such times are now over. How can they really be dead?
I can hear them now in my mind, telling me bad puns, getting excited over U2 or Brian Eno, writing that special poetry that only Rowan could write and pull off, and so much more. It doesn't make sense that death was even possible for such a person.
Someone linked me to an article about their death, and it caused my blood to boil because it briefly mentioned the death of a '20-year old unidentified woman' and then went on and on about delayed commuters instead of the loss of someone so unique, so talented, my friend. Perspective be damned in this instance. An irreplaceable spark of energy, life, passion and laughter was wiped out, and I want the world to know.
I may not have been Rowan's closest friend, but they were extremely dear to me. I know I am not alone in having treasured Rowan as the special person they were, and my heart goes out to the many others touched by their loss, especially their parents and their long-term friends like reipan.
* = I'm using gender-neutral pronouns to respect Rowan, who was in the process of working out their own identity on (or off) the gender spectrum. Though Rowan was also used to being given female pronouns as Phoebe.
And as for me...
I'm in Leamington now...I fled up here at the advice of friends telling me I should be with loved ones, and I really didn't want to sleep alone tonight. Many many thanks to James too, who met me at short notice after work and provided both comfort and distractions for much of the evening, as well as hot chocolate and beautiful guitar music. It means a lot to have people who can help hold you together in such times - Rowan was one of these people with whom I had done just that before.
I'm going to work again tomorrow afternoon, because I do need to get back into the flow as quickly as possible, and it's a distraction, something to focus on. Today, I was too distracted for such a distraction, but at least my colleagues were wonderful in getting me tea, hugs and help when I burst out crying.
I want to write them a tribute, a farewell message on FB, but I just can't, not now. Words are precious. Rowan helped teach me the truth of that.
(Goes without saying, but please save any 'happy birthday' comments for a different post, thank you.)