We had pillow fights during sleep overs at her house. She had a boisterous fun-loving personality. I was a bit more reserved, but she brought out the maniac in me. My strongest memories of our time together is laughter. Lots and lots of laughter.
The first time I saw someone draining a boar for slaughter was at her house. They were more country than my family. And they hunted and cleaned their own animals. I wasn’t grossed out. I was impressed.
She stole my boyfriend in ninth grade. Okay, fine he wasn’t my boyfriend, but he asked me to the dance and when my parents wouldn’t let me go because I was too young to date, he asked her instead. She sort of stole my potential date. That’s more the truth. And the funny thing is I wasn’t even mad at her. Green with envy, hell yes. But I knew she had no ill will. She wasn’t trying to steal him, it just worked out in her favor.
Really, the girl didn’t have a mean bone in her body. She was nice to everyone. She was just good.
We lost touch over the years. Even by late high school, she gravitated towards the 4-H crew and I toward the weirdos and freaks. But I never lost respect for her, or love. Her kindness was hard to trump no matter that we didn’t run in the same circles anymore.
I learned about a year ago that big C, Cancer, was attacking her body. She fought. And she won. But some Cancers are furious weeds that leave little tendrils. Silent assassins that hide in shadows and move with alarming quickness, as if aided by the dark one himself. She fought again. But the weeds took root and the assassins swiped hard.
She was taken from us too soon. One of the last posts she made on Facebook said, “Its OK at times not to know what to say. But sometime it is just time you spend or have spent with someone that means the most.” The time we spent together meant a lot to me, even though it was so long ago. I had a secret selfish hope that she would defeat the illness and prove the doctor’s wrong.
But she was tired, and missed her father who’d passed a few years ago. I imagine them embracing after the long separation. And despite my broken heart, I’m grateful she is no longer suffering. Her body was worn out. I counter the sadness I feel at her passing with the thought that her light has a stronger broadcast from Heaven.
There are certain types of unforgettable goodness that can not be hindered by mortality.