In loving memory of Dana Paleos

Julia Baron "I wanted to send chocolates but unfortunately it has a tendency to melt in the mail. Of course nothing I can send will really take the pain away. The best I can do is reiterate a few important things:
- Never be with a person who interprets your best attributes as flaws and doesn't meet your needs.
- You are a beautiful, brilliant, creative, interesting, inspiring, insightful, kind, generous, caring and delightfully unique woman—you deserve (and will find) a man who worships you as the tiny goddess you are.
- No matter what happens, YOU ARE LOVED...A LOT! By me, your family and everyone else who really gets to know you. You'll always have us to support you.
These breakups are painful at best, but now your path has been cleared and you are free to find someone far better for you than you've ever imagined.
As always, I'm here for absolutely anything you need.
Lots of love—"
I found this letter this evening—folded in thirds with this image on the back. It was stuck in an old journal and I knew immediately upon seeing the pristine handwriting who had bestowed it upon me. It's of course ironic: I should have sent this letter to you, Dana Paleos. But no: you sent it to me. You always sent these letters to me.
I found this letter this evening—after I spoke with you on the phone. Maybe for the last time. Probably for the last time.
I found this letter this evening—and now wonder if it's wrong to post—after knowing your bright depths for over twenty years now. I met you and Christina in a Poughkeepsie hotel the night before we started freshman year. We discovered we were attending the same college, in the same dorm, on the same floor. With your unwavering empathy, strength, humor, weirdness, brilliance and beauty you made feeling like an outsider at an already outsidery school, bearable. Even, good. You made having crushes and getting through them a mode of growth. You made the scent of apple perfume (Bath + Bodyworks?) a thing of comfort. You made a bag of Skittles over a hearty cry on the front steps of Lathrop mean more than you know. You introduced me to MST3000 and made me understand the nuances of nerd, dork, and geek subcategories. You somehow got me obsessed with that one Korn song to the point where I played it at obnoxiously high levels. On repeat. For hours. (Dana, you made me like Korn. Who else could have that sway?) You gave me (and somehow still give me) courage. You renewed my faith in being a writer, an artist, an empath. You have spent your energy passionately pushing for the people, art, ideas, and science you believe in; sometimes I wonder if your body has shut down because it can't contain the totality and vibrations of your bold and beating heart. And with every pain and suffering you've come upon, you soar above us all. How unfair.
And yes, how guilty I feel, wishing I could do more, fight harder, share further, demand something better for you. I miss you already. I've been missing you.
With all this past tensing, I suppose I should save this for your memorial. And maybe you'll see or hear it somehow then, too. But, like I was when you met me at a raw 17 years old, I can't help but tell you in this moment, even on some ridiculous social media site, what you mean to me. In fact, I can't fully tell you. But I can steal your words: "No matter what happens, YOU ARE LOVED...A LOT! By me, your family and everyone else who really gets to know you. You'll always have us to support you."
Dana, I hope tonight wasn't the last time we talk. I hope there is hope. I hope you know you always have me to support you, wherever I am, wherever you are. Lots of love — Julia

DANA ANHALT PALEOS

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