Vivere disce, cogita mori

On Sunday, I had the opportunity to see many wonderful old friends that I hadn’t seen in years. Sadly, there was none of the jumping, squealing, and raucous laughter that usually accompanies such a reunion.

We were at a memorial service for another of our friends, so there were smiles, hugs, and reminiscences, as well as a lot of tears. We lost a wonderful woman; an intelligent, loyal, funny friend; a mother, a sister, and an aunt to her large family. She was insightful, and could see through falsehoods and foolishness from a mile away. We could count on her loyalty and support in anything, and no matter how poorly she felt, she'd always ask how we were doing. She had a talent for comedy, playing the straightwoman with perfect ease, or delivering a line that was so subtly funny that you’d crack up 15 minutes later. We all remember “the look,” a glare our friend could deliver that would anyone in their tracks. There is a lot to miss about our friend.

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The majority of us are in our mid-50s, and we all consider ourselves in the prime of life, give or take a few aches and a memory lapse here and there. Our dear friend was barely 53 years old when she passed away, an event which struck us all as completely unfair, undeserved, and untimely. What about the rest of her life? Why doesn’t she get that part, too? No answer.

Of course we promised to spend more time with each other, and to stop taking all that we have for granted. Soon, all our good intentions will fade, as we get caught up in life and overwhelmed by everyday demands. But we won’t forget our friend.

Katrina