-- Not mine - taken from http://summerwind.diaryland.com/010323_32.html. I'm posting it here because I want to make sure that this entry never vanishes into cyberspace.

I started thinkign this afternoon. About a girl. I knew her from about third grade until eighth grade. I met her and she was always more of an outcast than I ever was. But in a way, the kids accepted her in ways I never knew. I made shallow friends that had reasons for keeping me alive. They had interesting conversations, which was good for listening to. And they always had drama in their life, so I was always happy watching. And I never did anything but watch. But she, she found a group that understood her. They loved her for who she was and I knew that she could tell them anything. They were like her soul mates. Only in female form.

But I remember we had this weird bond. We would barely look at each other in school, but she lived around the corner from me. And in the afternoons, we would meet in this place in this empty field. We would sit there for an hour and just sit sometimes or talk about life. We would talk about what made us different and why we couldn’t make friends like everybody did.

Then we hit middle school. We drifted. She got involved in the drama department at school as was always there for play practice and I was at the school when the drama people were done for orchestra rehearsal. Our schedules didn’t permit us to do what we used to as kids. And so we grew apart. Then one day, we had a short day. A half day at school. And I remember I got home, ate some lunch and found nothing on tv, so I went to where I always used to go as a kid. To the desert field. I walked over there and I remember thinking that I hadn’t been there in months, but in that time, the well worn paths we used to walk were becoming just another part of the field. Our mark was not permanent on the environment and mother nature quickly showed us that. I made a connection to the lost friendship with Tori [the girl]. And then I looked up and she was there. She must have thought the same things as I did. I just smiled and I am not a real touchy feely person. I don’t touch another unless they initiate it. But I went over to her and gave her this huge hug. She just smiled and hugged back and we walked over to the rocks we had clamed as children. We were now much bigger and we had both sprouted an inch or so in the past few months, our legs sat uncomfortably as we tried to fit into the old familiarity that we had as kids. I don’t remember who started the conversation that day. It didn’t really matter. I just remember thinking that I had never been more comfortable, yet so awkward with somebody in my life.

We told each other about what was new, our new friends, and how they helped us in life. We talked about our home life [her parents divorce wasn’t going so well, my brother was just getting into drugs and flunking out of high school]. Then I asked her how life was overall for her. I don’t know why I asked her that. I just wanted to know if she was happy and doing okay without our daily talks and self-esteem boosts.

She told me that she had never been happier in her life.

I remember looking in her eyes and I saw it. I saw that she really was happy. I had been looking in those eyes for five years. And I had seen her go through everything. I had seen her at her lowest and her highest. And this was defiantly her highest. She was really happy. And I was so happy for her.

I don’t know why, but I also felt so relieved. I was happy she could live her life without me, even though I was lonely without her. I missed her friendship. I missed her humor. I missed how she connected to me in ways I had never had a friend connect to me in.

The next day I walked into school. The principal of the school was out walking around and I smiled and said hello to him. He said hello back, but I saw a sadness in his eyes. I saw a nervousness in there.

By the time I got to second hour, I found out why. The whole morning, there was this rumor going around school that somebody that went to our school had committed suicide the night before. We all sat in class, eyeing the empty seats, wondering just who it could be. Nobody cried really. But it was a cruel way for the world to shove death in our young faces.

The announcement was made over the speakers and I remember hearing the words going into my ears. I did not believe it. Tori, my once dear friend committed suicide. The counselors came into the rooms and people cried. Nobody even knew her, but of course, the “popular” girls all sobbed. They were dying for the attention. Cards were made for her parents and talk therapy sessions were held. I remember seeing her true friends in the hall, walking side by side, amazement mad either eyes wide. They didn’t cry. But they knew. They knew they needed to stick together to get through this.

I didn’t cry. I sat in class. People kept asking me “Didn’t she live around the corner from you? She was such a weird girl….” I would nod my head and then my eyes would narrow, thinking how cowardly these kids were for still putting her down after she was dead. For petes sake, get over yourself and let the girl just die without criticism.

An assembly was held about suicide, a memorial was held, students talked. I went to both. I sat paralyzed that day not knowing what I should do. Do I cry? Do I hold it in? Do I talk about it? What do I do?

I got home from school that day, my mom knew something was wrong and I told her. Tori died last night… Oh no dear! How did she die?….. She… she she she… she hung herself with shoelaces from her shower head…. Oh dear!…. Yeah… her mom found her last night…. Oh dear! Her poor poor mother!

I walked to my room, still not knowing what to do. So I put my shoes on and walked over to the field. I had been there just twenty four hours beforehand. And yet, I didn’t see it. The field looked differently. My eyes had matured yet the appearance of the field did not. All I saw was the weeds that grew flowers in the spring and we used to pick and twirl between our fingers, occasionally putting in our hair. I saw the rock, not looking as worn as it was, perfectly sized for our childlike rears. I saw the tree, not as big, but slightly smaller and not as deep green. It was all like it had been five years prior. The sun began to set so I walked home. Slowly this time. With just a little more dread in my step. The next few days were blurry. It was the same thing. The popular girls crying, then me getting out of class and still seeing her true friends wide eyed in sadness, and disbelief.

I attended the funeral. My dad didn’t want me to go. He said I was too young. I went anyways. Students got up and talked about what a great girl she was. Last week, ninety percent of my school didn’t even know Tori’s name. Now they were all her best friend. That pissed me off. They kept talking about her like they knew so much about her. They kept misrepresenting her. I wanted to get up and shout “Shut up everybody! Just shut up! I don’t want to hear this bullshit anymore. This is not who she was. You guys don’t even know her! That group over there, those were her best friends. They were the ones who knew her best. They are the ones who should be crying and talking about how great she was, or how terrible she was. You didn’t understand Tori, and you defiantly didn’t know her. So just shut up!”

But I sat there, calm and cool. Collected.

A few days later, I walked around the corner. I felt awkward. We never went to each others houses. We always had a friendship where we were not crushed if the other was not at the field that day. We defiantly didn’t go looking for one another. So I had rarely been over at her house. I walked up to the door and knocked quietly. I was nervous about what I was going to say. Maybe that was because I didn’t know what I was going to say. I just needed to see her mom. I just needed to see that Tori would live on through her parents. Her mom answered the door. She just about closed it, seeing I was a student form the middle school, saying, “Sorry, we aren’t accepting visitors right now”. But her breath caught and she opened the door for me, once she saw who it was. I gave her the bouquet of flowers my mom made me get and she pulled me into her arms. We didn’t ask if the other was “okay”, because you are never “okay” or “fine” after losing somebody like that. So I stood there at the doorway. Her mom started crying and I felt this need to say something wise that would help her deal with the loss of her daughter. Instead I said, “She was really happy you know. She was really really happy. She said she had never been happier in her life. [Her mom looked at me quizzically] I-I-I just wanted you to know that. Please don’t think she was unhappy. Because she had never been happier in her life. She said so. And I saw it in her eyes…. I-I-I gotta go…” And then I ran down the street, leaving her mom baffled.

I later found out that Tori had left a note. That was not told to anybody, nobody at the school knew she left a note. But she did. And in it, she said she was doing it because she had never been happier in her life. And she wanted to leave it that way. Or so I later found out. Her mom told me that it was like having her daughters come alive when I spoke them. She wanted to know how I knew. I never said anything. I knew that time would answer that question for her.

The anniversary of Tori’s death is on April third.

I hope you are as happy in heaven as you were on earth. --