Saying Goodbye

I met Diana Wynne Jones about twelve years ago, purely by chance, in a small antiquarian book shop. I don’t remember ever feeling quite as comfortable with anyone within the first ten minutes of meeting as I did with her.

I remember talking about research, about writing and the funny story she told me that had us both laughing… but it wasn’t until we were saying goodbye that I realised I’d never said how much I’d enjoyed her work or how much I was looking forward to her next.

I didn’t have to.

I discovered she’d written a short note, along with her address and telephone number on the back of a book mark and slipped it into one of the books I’d purchased.

We exchanged but a handful of notes since that time. I treasure them, as I do the memory of our first meeting.

When the telephone rang that fateful Saturday this past month, hearing the voice of a friend at home in Manchester tell me that the word had just broken of her passing, I was numb for hours and felt adrift for several days.

There seemed no words adequate to the task then, and there still aren’t. 

About Gwendolyn McIntyre

Author, editor, businesswoman, musician, lover of jazz and horses. Chief investigator of all things that go BUMP in the night.
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