I don't normally give my blog posts a sad tone, but today is going to be different. Just today. Tomorrow or the next day, I will return to being my upbeat self.
Today is May 19. My little sister's friend, C, would have been 21 years old. If she had not ended her life this past September.
C was vivacious in every sense of the word. She and my sister once embarrassed the crap out of me in front of a date, performing a song and dance routine to the Foxwoods Casino theme song. She and my sis were good for each other because they felt comfortable being goofy together (and man did they both have some seriously goofy sides.)
But C struggled with image issues through their friendship, in middle and high school. A smart, beautiful woman, she had everything in front of her but saw only darkness.
As a pastor's daughter, you learn about death at an early age. You get used to the middle of the night phone calls as Dad rushes away to a church family's house to be with someone during their last moments on earth. Usually, these people are old or sick, or both, and the knowledge of this has mentally prepared you. Even if this person had become like a grandmother or aunt, you were prepared.
When C died, I had never felt so affected by a death.
Dad officiated C's funeral. I had never been so proud of my father. He had confirmed C several years before, and helped her family create a touching, beautiful, meaningful service, a true celebration of a life.
I often think of C, and hope I always will. I know that however much I think of her, her friends and family must think of her 100 times more.
I don't write about C for sympathy. I write so I can remember. I am sorry for the loss of her, for her friends and family, for those she could have met and what she could have accomplished.
C. 5/19/1990 - 9/22/2010