Not Good at Goodbyes

18 Jan 2006

Dave is trying to feed me tapioca pudding, Avery is shoving candy hearts in my mouth, Will is working so hard to make me laugh and give me nose kissies at just the right time. And I’m trying; I’m trying so hard to smile without this sinking feeling in my stomach. Today is a day I’d like to forget, but never will, it is a day I’d like to start over, but now that it’s over maybe I can grieve.
I get home from running errands and there is a message from my Mom. No big deal, but then I call my sister. I start talking immediately because I haven’t heard from her in 24 hours.
Yak, Yak, Yak, but what’s this? She’s awfully quiet. "Nanu, are you sleeping?", "Did I wake you up?", "Did you and Joe get in a fight?", "Are you bummed out?"
And then she starts talking. She just talked to Mom. And she spills the beans, choking along the way.
“Anne, I’m so sorry, but Mom read in the paper today that Janell Smith passed away.”

Screeching to a halt comes my life. Everything sitting in front of me stops. This is a girl who is only 28 years old. This is a girl who was my best friend in 5th grade. A girl who in sat in Mrs. Gurnell’s English class and talked to me quietly throughout class, only to run home and talk more on the phone. We would write long random notes in this huge, pink cursive jr high hand. Later, we later on to play high school soccer together. She was so serious about it and would play in college on a scholarship, while I was too hung up in the social scene and boyfriend to care if I even got off the bench. Everything she did she did whole-heartedly with this beautiful warm smile on her face. I will never forget that smile.

Her mom, who later died of breast cancer, believed in her 100%. And I would too, she deserved to be healthy, she deserved to get married and have children, she deserved a long life.
Why does this make me so angry? Sometimes, I pray that God forgives me, but why did she get cut off short? I hope one day I understand, but all I can do is grieve. My stomach hurts, my eyes are tired, and my head is thinking to hard and fast to get anything I should done. I don’t ever want to forget her, but I’m not too sure what to do about tomorrow. I need to write more, but I just can't. Everything feels so final.