I never knew that the numbers on a calender could rip out your heart. Not until I woke up today and realized what day it was. It comes around every year. I know it's coming, because that's how time works, it marches on towards a date that will kick you in the teeth and then it will keep on moving like nothing happened. Then it comes back around around and sucker punches you in the teeth. It's a vicious cycle.
It got me today. A mean whammy. I woke up thinking I was gonna sail through today and then, BAM, I'm a puddle of tears and snot. Why? Because 18 years ago, two of my best friends, two sweet, innocent, beautiful 16 year old girls, were killed in a terrible car accident. Just like that they were wiped off the face the planet. Reduced to nothing but a memory. No longer will we see their faces, hear their voices, laugh at their jokes. No longer will we be those innocent, if not a little naive, 16 year old girls.
If you think 18 years is a long time to grieve, all you people that are still mad about 9/11 can shove it. Am I still angry? Yes. Am I still sad? Yes. But I remember. It may seem like I'm dwelling in sorrow, and maybe I am but I also remember. I will not let them fade into nothing. I will not forget their faces.
One of them was my best friend. She got me. For someone as strange as me, that's a joy. To have someone in your life who understands you. I remember the day I met her, vividly. I remember whispering a joke to her from behind. Sitting in English making fun of the teacher. She whipped around, her brown hair flying and looked at me with this incredulous look on her face. A look that bloomed into a million watt smile. I smile that hooked me. Luckily we fell into the same circle and I was granted the ability to spend time with her. To almost bask in her glow. We had sleepovers and talked and talked and talked while the others slept. She was one of the first people who ever just treated me like I wasn't some kind of outcast. The pretty cheerleader was friends with this crazy, new, strange, punky kid. My crazy hair and clothes was balaced by her normalcy. I loved her family and her little house, pale pink with a dark green trim. Her parents shop, her stories about "home" in Colorado. A home I visited many times after she died. Her grandma was an angel. And I see where she got it. I was never made to feel odd, or awkward, or strange, or misplaced around her. I absolutely loved her. With everything I had.
Luckily when she left me, she left me with others like her. A group a girls transformed by the light that shone from them. A bunch of different types meshed. We were the true breakfast club. A prep, a nerd, a punk, a princess. We were all the best of friends. We still are. Brought together by a loss each of us feels every year.
Thankfully I have that again. I have a group that stands by me and friends that I love. People I can pour my soul out to. People who have heard me laugh and seen me cry. People have have witnessed both my best and my worst and love me anyways. Thanks to those two girls so many years ago, I know how to build and keep a strong friendship and I will never ever turn someone away. I am kinder for their company.
I don't believe in an afterlife, but, I could be wrong. Sometimes I hope I am because there are so many people I want to see again. Talk to. Listen to. I just hope you both know you were loved.
Now that today is almost over, I am thinking about what I have to do to make you proud. Not only you, but my new friends, my close friends. I vow to be the best me I can be, proud. Strong, fierce, brave, and above all, kind. Thank you for shaping my life. Your was cut way to short and our friendship even shorter, but your legacy is everlasting.
I miss you. And I love you. Always
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