The Universe was missing your Light

That’s the only reason it made sense 

I’ll always love and miss you Wren

Sadly I just found out this last weekend of Sharon's passing. The world has lost a most beautiful person.  My husband introduced us. She was working with his PTSD and then his gastrointestinal issues, and recommended Sharon for my lower back pain. I've been a client since 2009 and blossomed into a  friendship when we discovered we shared our birthdays, fellow "crabs."  

Unfortunatelty, Chet,  passed away last January. I know she had reached out and they talked during his illness. She provided kind words and memories when I let her know of his passing. 

I know Sharon is in a peaceful place. She is in our thoughts, with love...

Joni Baker

My condolences to Rahima Najma Sharon's family. I first met Rahima Najma Sharon when she arrived for her first spring term at NAU in Flagstaff, AZ.  Sharon’s beautiful, goofy, genuine personality instantly pulled me in.  We spent many days rock climbing and hiking, eating deliciously nourishing food and exploring life to its fullest.  Sharon and I always called each other soul friends.  Laughter and tears of all kinds are what make our memories together.  Our last phone calls and text messages were last spring and full of love and open conversation regarding her concerns.  Sadly I just found out today of her passing.  The world is lacking a most beautiful woman, but I know Sharon is in a peaceful, loving environment as she deserves nothing less.  I love her dearly and always will as our souls will be forever connected.  I regret not reaching out sooner.  I genuinely give my condolences.  With love and sadness, 

Jessica Perry

I only met Sharon once (in person, though we had heard stories of each other) -- we sat together at Marit's wedding dinner, and happily chatted for several hours. I think we felt mutually seen and welcomed; at least, I know I did. A brief, but fully felt, friendship, and the ability to form that sort of bond-in-miniature speaks to who Sharon is -- able and willing to connect in a moment, being present, and holding space for another person. 

I'm so sorry for your (everyone's) loss.

Almost 21 years ago, I had just moved into my apartment across the road from Bastyr University. I'd settled in nicely, having built bookshelves with my dad in what was to be my office, and was fully prepared to enjoy the peace and quiet of solitude and studies, only sharing space with others when and if I so chose.

Except one of my new classmates - this bright, sparkly, awkwardly delightful being with red hair - asked me if I would consider moving in with her and becoming roommates. In fact she told me that she thought we should (but no pressure, of course!). I told her that I'd just built bookshelves and had a lease I couldn't get out of. It just didn't make sense.

Then one of the flyers she'd posted around school fluttered to a stop at my feet as I walked one of the basement hallways, and I called my mom. She really thought we should, too. So did Sharon's mom.

And so we did... with another dear friend taking over my lease so that I could move in with her. And my life was forever changed, just like that. Of course, if you knew Sharon at all well, this was a fairly common theme with her. She was a life changing force.

I'd gained a roommate, but it became very quickly apparent that the universe had conspired to put us together because that was how we were meant to be. Together. Best friends was a fair descriptor for our connection, but life partners was a little closer to the truth of it, and was certainly how we thought of ourselves. She was my person in this world... one that I could not have hoped for, and didn't know to ask for. We fought like a married couple at times, but loved with the unconditional safety and acceptance of family.

I am who I am today because of her. Being around her, especially living with her... the invitation and encouragement to step more fully into myself, to be accountable, to keep growing and learning... it was inescapable. She inspired me, pushed me when needed, teased me mercilessly when I deserved it, and we never ever finished a conversation or a visit without both saying how grateful we were for each other. Without gushing about how much we loved each other. I suspect this is true for many of those who were her nearest and dearest. It's just who she was.

I don't honestly know what my life looks like without her. These past couple weeks, I find that I am so grateful that she affected so many of us so strongly, because it has meant that I am not alone in this grief that I feel, that none of us are. It makes it more bearable. So does the fact that I feel her as strongly now as I did three weeks ago, still a part of who I am and what my life will be from here onward.

I don't have her penchant for puns, but I know I will think of her every time I hear a good one (or a bad one, for that matter). I will think about her every time I even think about gardening, much less when my hands are in the dirt and I can hear her teasing me about bugs and actually getting my hands dirty. I will think of her when I make rice... on the stove or baked with shiitakes and leaks. When I drench my food and snacks in olive oil and salt (and seaweed?). When I think of tall trees and Yosemite, the Redwoods, Sedona. San Francisco (she once won an underwear contest at a leather gay bar we went to down there. And yes, it was as incredible as you are likely imagining). Maine. The Methow. My wedding day. Hers.

It's unending, just as it should be. Just like my love for her is, like how my gratitude is, and now how I imagine my grief will be.

I love you, lady. I always always will.