Is silence really golden?
I lost a friend. Someone who I'd never talk to, write to or ever see again for the rest of my life. Her last words to me were something like "Have a great time celebrating Raymond's birthday tomorrow and tell him happy birthday for me." Sometime between the hours we were celebrating my son's birthday and possibly up into the following morning she died. Just like that.
When a mutual friend told me that he was surprised that I didn't cry or show great sadness at her memorial service I wasn't sure how to take his comment. I could only explain to him that she and I had spent an unusual amount of time together the last week of her life and I could only guess I found comfort in knowing that. I had told her of my new artventures that were to take place at school, she treated me out to an early birthday lunch (instead of the following week on my birthday), we spent time shopping, eating and talking all weekend.
I wish I had saved some of the silly messages she'd leave on my answering machine at the job just to hear her voice again but due to bouts of foul language I had to immediately delete them! HA! Not cool in a school setting!
The initial sadness has lifted and now I know what the true meaning of "her memory will live on" means because that's what I've been left with. But there's still that void that will be around forever.
2 comments:
Good to see you back here, Mija.
In regards to your friend (my acquaintance)I truly miss getting her poems in my email box regularly. I always encouraged her to compile a book of them. I really wish she had. She was a wonderful poet - I will always remember the stories she would weave with her words.
Mija! Thanks for visiting. Yeah, a lot of people told her to get them published. Sad.
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