If you are a regular in the food blogosphere, you likely knew Barbara. You've either read her blog, Winos and Foodies, or you've seen her comments as she visited other food blogs. You might have known her as the founder of Hay Hay It's Donna Day, or A Taste of Yellow, her annual food event to raise awareness for cancer which coincided with LiveStrong Day. You may have even known her as a photography enthusiast.
If you didn't know Barbara, I envy you and I pity you.
May I tell you about my friend? We began writing our blogs at roughly the same time and we became friends when she reached out to encourage me, to cheer me on and to engage me. So many others will tell you this is how they became friends with her, too.
For as long as I knew her - she was living with, or fighting cancer. But you'd never know it. While she openly shared the challenges and the hardships, cancer did not define her. Because she originally turned to blogging to distract herself from her illness, it was not something she dwelled on. No, what made Barbara so memorable was her vitality and her joie de vivre, her insistence on living as fully as she could. Her blog was all about living, eating, traveling, family and friends, not necessarily in that order. Her chemo and her treatments were simply something she endured. She was a passionate cook, a devoted foodie and a consumer of life.
As she was in Australia, and as I do not sleep, our waking moments often overlapped, allowing us the wonderful luxury of frequent real-time chats. She delighted in hearing about my young boys, sharing stories with me about her own boys, Chris and Mike. She told me about Bryan, her beloved husband, soul mate and life's co-adventurer. We bonded over our mutual love of Joshual Bell and the Beach Boys, particularly Brian Wilson.
We made plans to meet and take my sons to play on the beach in Australia in 2010. That year I lost my father, my best friend and another friend. And there was Barbara, gently counseling me, comforting me, distracting me by making plans to eat and play in Australia. She had bought beach toys for my children and was already planning all the fun things we could do together. Another setback that year cost us our chance to meet: my younger son began to struggle with a developmental disorder that we could not identify and could not combat (then). Right at the point that we should have been booking flights for Australia, we learned that he had an autism spectrum disorder. And there was Barbara yet again, encouraging, and adamant that I should focus on getting my son the help and treatments that he needed. We will find another time to meet, she said.
I focused on making it through 2010 and 2011, became consumed with learning everything I could to help my son. I stopped blogging about food; she was among the few who had access to a private blog where I catalogued my son's journey, where I went to pour out my private frustrations and fears. You're still blogging, she said, just not about food right now. She never stopped encouraging me to return to food blogging.
She was among the first friends I made in the blogosphere, and no friend could have been more vital or signficant in my life, though we never met. That's another refrain you'll hear from many of her "virtual" friends. It did not matter how geography separated us: Barbara was present and constant in our lives...in my life.
Over and over she defeated her cancer. So when she went into the hospital a few weeks ago for a procedure to inflate her lung, it never occurred to me that she would not again emerge triumphant. Last Friday, Barbara passed away after a long and valiant struggle. She went on her terms, her room filled with those who loved her. Such was Barbara's impact and presence that when her family announced her passing on her Twitter account, the Twitterverse was flushed with tributes and mourning from around the world. Can you imagine how this one singular lady should have graced so many lives that in the wake of the Tom/Katie divorce announcement, she trended on Twitter?
I could not enumerate all the ways in which she is now missed, and will be missed for her insanely genuine kindess for the years to come. Really, who is this nice?
Barbara, that's who. Bryan, Chris and Mike; and to all of Barbara's family and friends: my deepest condolences.
If you knew Barbara, then we are comrades in our bereavement, we are one in our grief as we miss our dear and lovely friend.
If you didn't know Barbara, I envy you and I pity you.
I am sorry that you will never get to experience first hand Barbara's sparkle and warmth, that magic that was simply Barbara.
I envy you because you will get to discover Barbara for yourself, and see what we are all talking about, what we are all mourning.
I invite you to meet - and then miss - the incomparable Barbara Harris.
Barbara, I can't wait for us to meet some day. Rest in peace, my friend. I raise a glass of champagne tonight in your honor, one week after you left us far too soon.
