Her face lit up. "I love Angie Zardo! We had a drama class together once in grade nine!"
And that's how it always was with Angie. Across oceans and years, everyone who ever met her remembered her and loved her. Whether you had known her all your life or just for a few months years and years ago, she stuck with you. You remembered that she was always smiling, always laughing, always up for anything. And you remembered that she genuinely loved you too, that when she asked how you were, she really wanted to know, that she would remember all of the little things you told her.
Ang was the happiest person I've ever known. She didn't wallow in the things that could make other people miserable; she just changed them. Aside from when she lost her mum five years ago, I don't have a single memory of her where she wasn't smiling and laughing. And she never minded laughing at herself: she was one of the most beautiful people you could ever meet, but somehow it was nearly impossible to get a good photo of her; she never seemed to know any of the words to her favourite songs, but loved singing them at the top of her lungs anyway; and when it came to catching up and swapping stories, well, the more embarrassing, the better.
She was an amazing friend, who would do anything for you and make any new people you brought along feel welcome and like they'd known her forever. She was always moving, always wanting to take on the next challenge, always ready to make life better for herself and everyone around her. You could go months without speaking and then pick up one day right where you left off, spending mere seconds on the boring pleasantries before diving right in to the good stuff; she always wanted to really know about your life, your family, you.
I haven't had the chance to speak to Ang regularly since I've been in London and she's been in New York. You always think there's loads of time, if we don't manage to Skype this weekend, surely we'll get there some day. But even though she wasn't a fixture of my daily life, the world feels obviously emptier without her here. It seems so clear to me that I wonder how this whole island full of people who've never met her can possibly be going about their days, not realising that something is missing.
Ang will always be there. Every time I sit chatting in someone's kitchen with a cup of tea, every time Mr Jones comes on my iPod, every time someone mentions New York. She was never the kind of person you could shake or forget, nor the kind you'd ever want to.
Miss you so much Ang. xoxo
