-Marianne J
I never met Elizabeth in person, but I felt like I knew her better than some people in my own family.
We met through a Facebook support group for women living with chronic illness. I have lupus and fibromyalgia, and there are days when I don’t leave bed except to cry in the shower. Most people in my life stopped checking in years ago. You become invisible after a while. Sick and silent.
But not to Elizabeth.
She messaged me out of nowhere after I left a comment on a post about loneliness. She didn’t just send hearts or a “thinking of you”—she sent a paragraph. A real one. About how pain doesn’t erase our worth. About how she saw my name and thought it sounded like someone who tells good stories. She asked me if I’d told any stories lately.
I remember crying so hard I startled my cat.
She checked in every few weeks after that. Not in a way that was heavy or overwhelming. Just a gentle, “Still here if you need to talk,” or “I saved a meme that made me think of you.” Once she sent me a screenshot of the night sky and told me, “You’re in it.”
When I found out she passed, I was gutted. But I wasn’t surprised by how many people she touched. Elizabeth had a way of loving people exactly where they were. Not in spite of their mess, but because of it.
I miss her terribly. But I know, somewhere, she’s still checking in.
Still reminding people they’re not invisible.
Still sending light.
