Susan had the most beautiful russet locks that I had ever seen. They were thick – like entwined ropes – and cascaded over her shoulders to frame her fair face. I didn’t know this the first time I met her; it was a late winter evening after a university lecture, and her hair was shoved up into a knitted cap.
It was the second time that I met her when I noticed her hair and thought how beautiful it was. Why didn’t I tell her? I promised myself after Katrina that if I were thinking a pleasant thought about someone, I would say it. I should have uttered my sentiment, but I didn’t, and I don’t know why. Why didn’t I say it?
When you only meet a person a handful of times in your life, and you think about her anyway, her life enriches yours in some ineffable way. Susan was working on her master’s degree with the goal of becoming a college professor. She would have made a good professor; she was a doer, not just a thinker. When she was Jillian’s dance partner (no guys in the class), she put her everything into their performance. Susan made the doing part of life fun.
After a performance of The Vagina Monologues, Norm waved in her direction as we approached Susan and Jillian to congratulate them on a job well done. Susan lit up, just as she always did, and stretched her arms wide to give Norm a hug. On most occasions, Norm reserves his hugs for me and Jillian. But that night, he not only accepted one from Susan; he returned one to her. That says tomes about Susan’s light.
A period goes at the end of a sentence. When a thought continues, you add a comma, a semi-colon, or a dash, but not. A period. If someone will cry, it’s not time to die. As if we have control of that sort of thing – dying and crying. It would be nice to think that we do. We don’t, do we?
But see, the light emitted by her spirit was not extinguished by a period. Her sentence continues in the form of an unspoken thought on the wings of a dove, soaring somewhere in the heavens.
Her hair was. Beautiful.
She was. Beautiful.
She still is. Beautiful. Susan
Susan Day Hoyt
April 14, 1987 – July 4, 2013
Stacy Rambles 
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The first time I met her mother, I told her I was dating Susan because of her beautiful hair. It became a running joke between us, along with so many other things.
Incredibly beautiful girl, Susan was, all the way around – not just her hair. xo
Thank you, my friends, for your condolences. Words help the healing process, and I offer you my gratitude. ❤
Stacy
Sorry for your loss. This is a beautiful, lovely tribute to your young friend.
Dearest Stacy,
For you, Jilian and Norm this is a very hard fact to accept… if at all possible. Such a sweet dove that never will return to capture and frame a special moment together with you. But framed inside your hearts you did capture her true spirit and it will remain there forever. She might be able to be even closer to her loved ones as an angel one can call by name… Tight hugs to you,
Mariette
“On the wings of a dove, soaring somewhere in the heavens”, just as her spirit soared through life, touching so many. ❤
What a wonderful tribute to a bright and beautiful soul…. Many blessings your way.
Stacy, I am so sorry. What a lovely tribute to this beautiful soul. She was so young….but she burned bright.
Sometimes you just need time to step back. I’ll be sending you love and prayers. You are a dear friend. xo
Oh, Stacy… She sounds like she was/is a very beautiful person. Too vibrant, too young to–poof–away from you all. Blessings.
That is a beautiful tribute to your friend.