A few weeks ago, a Seattle woman named Rachel Marshall died in her sleep. Because Seattle (well at least my Seattle) is still a small town at heart, the news shocked me and broke my heart. She was just 42, the mother of two young children. I didn’t know Rachel personally, but we have many friends and acquaintances in common. She was a well-known small business owner who I paid attention to and covered years ago when I worked as a food writer at a local alt-weekly. She made great ginger beer and gave opportunities to young chefs of color. I disagreed with some of the political stances she took as a small business owner and also her choice to be a very public white lady with dreads. I will always remember her being at a fundraiser for a local reproductive justice organization that I love. People are complicated.
Last night, a friend shared with me this letter from Rachel Marshall’s family announcing the upcoming celebration of her life and explaining the cause of her death. It sent me reeling. I am still reeling, which is why I’m writing this.