I admire this human endlessly. I marvel at her regularly. She was a rare and brilliant gem.

Today is Becky’s birthday, and boy, do I miss her. I miss her warmth, her charm, her talent, her goofiness… I even miss the feeling of being so much less—less charming, less impressive, less popular, all of it—than she was because it happened to come with a compensating sense of joy, simply by virtue of the fact that she called me a friend.

In the years following her death, I began to understand how losing her warm and happy friendship, her faith in me, and her gentle encouragement impacted my self-esteem. All the ways I lacked and floundered became more pronounced when held up beside her memory and wholesome comparison. I am sure I am not the only person to feel that way. The world lost her kind and complimentary light. 

At some point, I began, both publicly and privately, employing the mantra Be like Becky.  For the better part of the 20 years since her death, I considered this wishful thinking. It defied my sense of self to imagine embodying the unflagging optimism and joyful determination I saw in my friend. And let’s face it, there would be no fine art and portraiture in my future. But still, I tried to imagine a version of myself that Becky would be proud of—a version that brought self-compassion and bravery to bear as often as she lent me votes of her confidence. 

And you know what? It kinda worked. 

Please don’t get me wrong, it’s not in my nature or even my wheelhouse to be as vivaciously bubbly, wildly talented, or as effortlessly cool and amicable as Becky Westcott, but little by little, I have grown my confidence, my positivity, and my bravery. 

I succeed in meeting each day with a kind of calm clarity and much better humor. I feel a genuine positivity and gratitude about myself and my life. My community has grown in its scope, largely because of my determined efforts at making, deepening, and maintaining friendships. I am managing responsibilities and taking on challenges I never dreamed I’d be capable of. And while my version of “being like Becky” can only look as Becky-like as my more cloudy temperament will allow, I can’t and won’t deny that I finally feel like the person she always insisted I could be.

Though to be fair, I’ll still never be as cool. 

I can’t even express how profoundly happy and gratified this realization makes me. I am so proud of myself. Gonna use all my energy and intention to keep proving her right. 

Thank you, Becky. Happy birthday.