One of a kind

June 3, 2008 § 1 Comment

I always thought we’d make up. One of these days we’d see each other at the Superstore or on Spring Garden and we’d both apologize — her for having no compassion for a broke illegal scrambling to make enough to pay my share of the power bill, me for refusing to pay rent for the summer months (after they’d forced me out of the apartment five months earlier).

We were great friends for that first year of university, a dozen girls living in a truly golden time, full of curiosity and open to possibilities.

I thought once she’d calmed down a bit, and we’d both grown up, we could laugh about the misunderstanding. We had a strong foundation.

Fast forward six years.

I stumbled across the obituary accidentally, and then I was sure I’d read it wrong. It is with great sadness that we announce the untimely passing of our beautiful daughter and sister….
Ten weeks ago she was cheerfully teaching in Japan, and today I went to her funeral.

But I still think I must have read it wrong. No one was ever more alive than she.

§ One Response to One of a kind

  • Oh, man. That’s a lesson I keep failing to learn. Somebody dies, and I wonder why I didn’t make up, or tell her how I felt, or pick up the phone, for Christ’s sake. I tell myself I’ve learned the lesson, but there’s no practical way to apply it because I don’t know who’s next in line.

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