Tribute to my roommate

My roommate moved away last weekend. She was here from day 1 of my experience living in this place. It's hard to imagine living here without her, except now I'm doing it. Our friendship will continue, but for now her departure feels sort of like a death. I'm in mourning. And so to help me in this transition, I felt it would be therapeutic to write a tribute to my dearly departed roommate. It doesn't encompass all of who she is or why so many people love her, but for now it expresses what I miss.

She helped me to understand the culture around me because she understood it so well. She seemed to naturally mesh with the heartbeat of our friends here. I remember the first moment I realized while watching her interact with one of her closest Turkish friends, "They're not speaking English, but this Turk understands her better than I do." She was fun and outgoing in ways I only wish I could be. She knew how to throw a party, and she knew how to relax. She was always helping me to get out of the house to spend time with our local friends or see a movie. But don't get me wrong, she also worked hard. She prepared great English lessons and studied and cooked and cleaned with fervor. She loved with fervor, and the proof of that is in how many people loved her in return. She was brave and willing to take risks. She was full of ideas and willing to try them while I was still wondering if they would work. We washed dishes together and learned to cook together and traveled together. We cared for two cats together and cared for friends together. But most of the time I was just trying to keep up with her and help her out as I knew best. She taught me many things, practical and personal. She was there as I went through culture shock and the shock of not understanding or being understood. She was there every day for a year and a half, except for a few vacations she or I took with other friends or family. She was my family. And I will never forget her.