... another birthday. Not that it really matters, for all that it's just another day.
Somehow, this year is more.. solemn. It's not hard to think why. Last year, the day before my birthday, my mother called to tell me that one of my childhood friends had committed suicide.
It strikes closer to home, maybe, because it was the day before my birthday that I found out. It feels almost bad that I'm having a birthday and she isn't. She will be forever 21, but to me, she will always be the girl I knew in primary school. Impetuous, laughing, headstrong, just full of life. She loved music, and started highland dancing, when I knew her. She was proud of her Scots ancestry. I wonder what she would make of me now, in a pipe band, and me with no Scots blood at all.
We were never close as we grew up, she and I. We had very different aspirations and approaches to life. We used to write each other, and then when the internet came into vogue it grew to emails, first from our parents' email addresses, and then our own. I remember waiting for the clunky dial-up modem to do its magic, so I could read an email from her and then compose a reply. Then sometimes talking on msn messenger when that became popular. It was never intimate, our talking, but we knew by and large what was going on with us.
I hadn't seen her for a while on msn when I got the news. I had wondered why, but thought she must just be busy. Her mother had passed on the year before, it must have affected her greatly. I can't say that I should have been less effected by her passing than I am. After all, we were only friends in primary school, and not best friends forever at that. It's strange, maybe, that I mourn her more a year on compared to when I first heard the news. But there it is.
My sorrow is that I knew her, and now she is gone. We were of an age. We should have been able to compare life stories long after this.
This is for a friend, known too little and gone too soon.
|comments: Leave a comment|