I keep finding ways to distract myself because I don’t want to write this. I don’t want to have a reason to write this. I don’t want it to be real.
I’ve seen sunny days that I thought would never end.
I’ve seen lonely times when I could not find a friend.
But I always thought that I’d see you again.
- James Taylor
When I read the text message, I knew I should be the one to tell my parents. But I didn’t want to. I hadn’t heard the words out loud and I wasn't eager to be the one to put them into the air. It felt as if saying them would make the news solid, real and permanent, further weakening my attempts at denial.
Mom reacted as I had: with disbelief because “I just saw her”. We know how fleeting life can be but it's still incomprehensible when a person is ripped away from us. Humans aren’t built for sudden changes. We like to ease into new situations, take them in and slowly adjust to the new temperature.
But we aren’t always given that choice.
Telling my dad was somehow harder. When I said I had bad news, his tone changed with uneasy anticipation and I felt weird, knowing something terrible before he did. I’m sure he racked his brain for what bad news could concern both of us but I would hear first. He’s the parent; he should know bad things first and protect me from them if he can.
But he couldn’t protect me from this. Not that day or the ones that followed when I mourned my friend from 2600 miles away.