Loss.

Today marks the 3 year anniversary of a good friend's death. Ever since the first soccer practice of the season in 7th grade (8th grade for her) we were pretty good friends. I remember that day almost perfectly. We were on the far side of the field throwing chest bounces and headers to each other. Being the ridiculous little girls that we were, we decided to give each other nicknames. We each had our own, but over time we both called one another 'Fufu'. Fufu and I had a great time together...we got in trouble together then volunteered together, gossiped together and went to the beach together. I knew Fufu had some problems, such as depression and bulimia, but I never thought it affected her the way it obviously did.

While volunteering away our troubles at the soup kitchen one morning, we made plans to go to the county fair that night. When time rolled around for her to come pick me up and she didn't show, I called her, left messages, and to be honest became quite frantic. I couldn't get in touch with her and that was just unheard of. Later I found out that she had gotten into a mysterious car accident on a back road. No other cars were around when she crashed into a tree. She had not been drinking or anything, but claimed to have reached down to get a CD and made a mistake. I still wonder, to this day, if that was not just an accident.

I became increasingly distant from her since the start of college, but I knew I could always count on her if I needed anything. Going back to my hometown during the first Christmas of my college career, I saw Fufu for the first time in a long time. It was so great to see her but, she looked thin and I could tell she was doing drugs. I knew she had kind of gotten into some bad things in college, but I knew deep down she was still a great person. That night I promised her after the party we would get together for some quality time. She called me that night, many times, to take me up on the offer. I was with my boyfriend, asleep, and didn't see the calls until the next morning. I never called her back.

3 years ago today, Fufu commit suicide.

Why didn't I step in and try to help her when she obviously needed it? Why didn't I just call her back the next morning? The last time I saw her she was drugged-out at a party.

But that is not how I remember her.

I remember her on the green-brown grass of the soccer field, long, black, frizzy hair pulled back in a pony tail, red Umbro shorts with a red and white t-shirt giggling each time she said 'Fufu'.

I remember her frowning at me in disgust when we had to put on hairnets and latex gloves at the soup kitchen.

I remember her white jean skirt covered in rust from using it to open apple flavored Bacardi-O at the beach.

I remember her as a great friend and nothing less.

Fufu, I bet you aren't reading blogs up there in heaven, but if you are...I love and miss you every day!

Bitter Sweet Sunday

I cried today. A lot. For a man who I hardly know. An old headmaster of mine died this past week. I didn't even know he was sick. My sister used to babysit for him and his wife. They have the most beautiful children. I cried so much. I'm crying writing this. I don't know why. I haven't seen or even thought about this man in probably 6 years. He had testicular cancer that no one found until it had spread to his lungs. I hate cancer. I want it to go away and not hurt anymore wonderful people. I'm scared it will affect me. I'm scared I will loose someone I love. I hate death. It is permanent and takes so much away. That sounds stupid, but it is just so scary. The closest person to me to die was a good friend who commit suicide almost 3 years ago. That was hard. I miss her. I don't want to have to miss anyone else I love. 

His wife kept a blog throughout his journey (3 years). I read it today after I heard the news. It is pure, raw emotion. She discusses the emotional journey - even the worst parts. She expresses how angry she was at him for having cancer. And how angry the kids were at him for having cancer. She explained (without sparing any detail) how she felt at every step. I cried hardest when she described a moment between her son and husband. The son was angry at the father for being sick. The son was scared. She described how the father talked with the son and how the son cried so hard his body convulsed. The son is probably 10 years old. I was so sad. I haven't been this sad in a long time.

I knew him as a headmaster, and not much more. But through her blog I have learned what a magnificent person he was. I am relieved for his wife that the long struggle is over, but I am incredibly sad for the family as well. He was a man committed to making education a better institution and I am sad that he is gone. It surprises me how much I am moved by this particular event. Reading her words and how he responded to the cancer, makes me want to live life for every moment. 

I want to make my life great. 

I want to positively impact as many people as I can. 

I want to stop living this materialistic, shallow life. 

What can I do? How do I change my life?

I'll end this post with a positive...Navy Boy called today. We got to talk for 40 minutes and I could hear him much better because he used a different phone. He wants me to come visit! I want to visit. I'll have to work on the details for that. I'll keep you posted.

Live everyday like it is your last. Love anyone and everyone. I'm going to make a change and it feels great.