Each year, August 8th is noticed by me. It's the day my dear friend died. I wasn't with her. I was on vacation. I found out from a note on the door when I returned, long after the funeral.
I remember us sitting in the back of Dad's brown Toyota mini-van singing "We Are Family" and "Lean on Me". We were on our way back from a seafood restaurant that sat on Hwy 109 in the middle of nowhere. I even remember what I ate, where we sat at the table that day, and the guy that I was unabashedly flirting with.
Her death touched me in a way no other has. We were 14 years old, she just a few months younger then me. I had all kinds of things I was going to tell her about my vacation. Death was not even a possibility.
Then there was the fact that I wasn't there. I missed the funeral. I didn't get to say goodbye.
We were only 14 years old.
And so begins the thoughts of what she would be like today. I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that she would be vibrant and full of life. That her smile and laugh would light up a room.
I'm gonna kick over to youtube, find the videos to the two songs we sang the last time we were together, and sing it while doing the same dance moves she and I did that day so many years ago.
I'll always remember you Mary.
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