10 Years Later

March 4th, 2005.

That is the day that Kelsey Wood died. Kelsey and I were great friends and her death rocked my world, as it did for everyone who knew her. When Kelsey died I grieved. I did what most thirteen year olds in that situation would have done, I think. I cried, I hugged family and friends, and I remembered. I still remember arriving at the hospital just after she'd passed....

I remember five years later in March of 2010; I was getting ready to graduate from high school. I remember crying that week because all I could think about was injustice. I was going to graduate. I was going to college. I was living. Why not her?

These thoughts often plagued me as the years after Kelsey's death passed. Why was I given more time?

Obviously I don't have the answers, I didn't then and I don't now. But ten years have passed, and I've grown up. I've lived. 

People like to tell us that time heals all wounds. That if we just give it some time, the pain will go away. 

I completely and totally disagree. 

Kelsey isn't the only person close to me I've lost; she wasn't even the first one. Each time I lose someone it leaves a fresh hole. Time helps, but not in the way people tend to say it does. Time doesn't heal the wounds; it doesn't make the pain go away. Time just numbs me; it teaches me to live with this new ache in my heart. It's like when you get in super cold water that is super cold. At first it stings and you tighten up. But eventually your body adjusts. The water is just as cold as it was before, but you're getting used to the feeling. 

10 Years Later, I still miss Kelsey. I still don't understand the injustice of her death. I still remember her laugh and her unusual wisdom. 

10 Years Later, and I have finally accepted the pain. 

Sam Hands

I don't know if I've told you this, but I'm insecure. 

Yes, I know everyone has their insecurities - personally mine is my weight - but that's not really what I'm talking about. 

I'm insecure in pretty much all of my relationships. Other than my parents, almost anything can make me think someone doesn't love me or like me anymore. I'm not sure why this is, I'm sure I could psychoanalyze myself to death and still not know, but, whatever the reason, I have a really hard time telling where I am with people. 

Sam, however, is my best friend. I know so because she said it. 

You see, my senior year at ACU, I was on Homecoming court. This fact is only important so that you understand why my Aunt Nanny was at ACU on a random Friday after Chapel, meeting Sam in the first place. Anyway, I was introducing Nanny and Sam and I said, "Nanny, this is my friend Sam :)" To which Sam's reaction was to give me a weird look, reach out her hand to Nan, and say, "I would venture to say best :)"

For someone as insecure as I am, to have the person whom I think of as my best friend say that's the case was the biggest confirmation of our friendship I could have wished for.

I know my last few posts may have been a little depressing or made me sound like a loser with no friends (because I was lonely when I wrote them), but I got to see Sam recently, and not just her, but a lot of my friends from school. 

I went back to Abilene a few weeks ago for Sing Song, and with some of the other alumni from my club, went to see the girls practice before the show. For whatever reason, the other girls pushed me through the door first, and I don't think I had ever felt so adored...it was like being a celebrity - lol. I walked in and they all started clapping (for all the alumni, I know, but it felt like the ovation was for me :) ), and I, of course, played it up, acting like I was some big wig on a talk show.

That's when I was attacked.

The kind of attack that surprises and scares you, but is welcome the second you realize who it is. My attacker was my first ever Little, Meghann. She held me in a hug for what felt like ten minutes, and it was the best hug ever. Full of "I've missed you," "It's been so long," and "Never again." 

Sam was there too (we literally jumped into a hug and jumped in a circle squealing like children when we saw each other --we were cliché but adorable), and we, along with the wonderful Carleigh, took our traditional Sam Hands photo (there's a story there, maybe I'll tell you some time). And then the weekend was over. The magic of seeing my friends and being surrounded by love was gone again, and in its absence my mind begins to wonder, as it often does: Was it real? Are we really still close? Do my friends have the same fears/insecurities? Am I overwhelming? 

Maybe a little. 

But I am still loved.