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| Tanya Connolly |
Dear Planet Southie Bikes,
Over seven months have passed, and it’s still so hard for me to talk about Tanya in an abstract way. Writing this letter only reinforces the fact that she is no longer with us.
Tanya and I were very close. We were 14 months apart in age. Together, we grew up in Ireland and moved to Boston in the early 1990s. As early adults we lived close to Dublin; a city full of life and energy, and later Tanya lived in London England for a period before moving to Boston. Tanya was a lively and energetic person; one who broke down barriers, treated everyone with respect, and would enter a place a stranger but leave with a whole new circle of friends. When people die, they are often described as a loving, caring, full of life, etc. etc. In the case of my sister this is not some desired fabrication - it is quite simply the truth.
On Monday September 17th 2012, I was in the car leaving work heading to school when I got a frantic call from my wife who moments before had learned about the crash. I pulled over and got in touch with the police officer who was standing by. He put it simply on the phone when I asked - "Is she dead?" - "Yes" he replied. Those are words you never want to hear. That moment rushed in a sense of complete and utter surrealism. How could someone you've always known, someone you've always loved, and someone you always expected to be there suddenly be gone?
Tanya and I were very close. We were 14 months apart in age. Together, we grew up in Ireland and moved to Boston in the early 1990s. As early adults we lived close to Dublin; a city full of life and energy, and later Tanya lived in London England for a period before moving to Boston. Tanya was a lively and energetic person; one who broke down barriers, treated everyone with respect, and would enter a place a stranger but leave with a whole new circle of friends. When people die, they are often described as a loving, caring, full of life, etc. etc. In the case of my sister this is not some desired fabrication - it is quite simply the truth.
On Monday September 17th 2012, I was in the car leaving work heading to school when I got a frantic call from my wife who moments before had learned about the crash. I pulled over and got in touch with the police officer who was standing by. He put it simply on the phone when I asked - "Is she dead?" - "Yes" he replied. Those are words you never want to hear. That moment rushed in a sense of complete and utter surrealism. How could someone you've always known, someone you've always loved, and someone you always expected to be there suddenly be gone?
