Earlier this summer, I had to write an obituary for one of my oldest and closest friends. The task was made even tougher because of our falling out during her final years of life. Sadly, her decision more than a decade ago to crawl into a bottle rather than wrestle with life’s challenges cost her most of her friendships. So, how to go about honoring the truth and her at the same time? It took me months to figure that out. Inspiration hit during a recent trip to Santa Cruz to celebrate her life with mutual close friends.  

Here’s the obit I wrote for the local paper that a friend publishes in Bear Valley, California, where Pam and I met and spent some wonderful years with people I still love:

Pam Jamison was like a bottle of bubbly—a celebration of effervescence that could occasionally blow up in your face. She passed last August after a life that included more than a decade in Bear Valley, where she worked at the Lodge front desk and almost single-handedly made the resort’s ski-week bookings a raging success.

She arrived in town in November 1975 with two friends, after the three had spent a year saving their money so they could prepay the entire season’s rent. Over the next 10-plus years, she would proceed to date and/or scare a good many of the town’s single men, most of whom remained close friends for years.

Pam’s post-Bear Valley life included a long and legendary bartending stint in Boulder Creek and a wildly successful career in hologram sales that relocated her from Santa Cruz to London and then Chicago. When that company shut its doors, Pam followed up with house flipping, during which her unparalleled negotiating skills shone. She would pit Home Depot against two other outlets and work them to the point where I’m not sure they made any profit at all. Her line of choice: “I’m not happy. What are you going to do to make me happy?” Toward the end of her life, she turned to investing in real estate and long-term rentals.

Pam’s final wishes were to return to the Santa Cruz area, where her professional life really kicked off. Next time you’re there, look out to sea and raise a glass to her.

Coming to terms with Pam’s passing has involved honoring the truth in my way—purging recent ugly memories and replacing them with the memorable moments that defined more than 40 years of friendship. The process hasn’t been easy, but it’s so worth it.