Friday, September 11, 2009
Remembering. . .
I've been in a funk all week. I've been fighting it and ignoring it and not understanding it. Today it has hit full-force. I know that today is the Day of Remembrance for September 11, 2001. I remember that day and where I was and the devastation I felt. I remember waking up the next morning, and sobbing when I realized that the day before had not been a nightmare. Like many Americans, I didn't know anyone personally who died that day. I was devastated for the innocent lives lost and for the way my country changed forever in just a few minutes.
I know and remember all of this, and yet it's not the reason for my funk (although I'll admit it may be contributing). Six years ago today, I lost one of my dearest friends, and even after all this time I can't stop crying.
We met the spring before we started college at a weekend meet and greet for new students. One of us (I can't remember now which one) bounded into the other's room to give an invitation to a play and spent the evening hanging out. We met up again when school started that fall because we were both history majors interested especially in medieval history (although our campus had 500 students that year, so we were bound to meet up again regardless). We hung out with the same group of people. We took most of the same classes. We dragged each other to those classes when one of us was down and didn't want to go. We lived together for a year after college. We ended up working at the historical society together first at the Braves Museum at Turner Field and then in the archives and we shared an office for a while. We often drove to work together.
So, yeah, we drove each other insane at times. But there was so much love and shared history between us. I can hear her laugh even now. She had a knack for coming up with crazy stunts to pull, and convincing the rest of us to go along. She wore fishnet hose to a friend's wedding. She planned to give her friend's children tie-died onesies (which I found out at my baby shower three years ago when I received a tie-dyed onesie in her memory). She staged a photo shoot at our college of us groping the Robert Frost statue. She could quote every line from The Princess Bride - and did every time she watched it.
I can't seem to convey the sheer force of nature that was Cathy. As mom my said this morning, she was a bubble of joy.
I have been working on a scrapbook for her mother and our friends since shortly after I got home from her funeral. I contacted our friends with whom I kept in touch and asked them to share a favorite memory and photo. I've also collected song lyrics and poems that seemed relevant. It has been a far more difficult project than I ever imagined it would be. I wanted it to be perfect and capture her fully. I realize now that would be an impossible task. I think it's time now to finish. Perhaps I'll pop in The Princess Bride (as a mutual friend suggested) while I work.
I'm so sorry for the melancholy today. This is why I try not to blog when I'm down. Back to the regular schedule on Monday.