Quarters

Yesterday evening, after class, I spoke with a good friend from high school and she gave me some terrible news. One of our other high school friends was killed in a car accident.
She has a baby who will have her first birthday in a few months. I'm sure her husband, the rest of her family, and her closest friends are a mess.
She was 25 years old. A quarter of a century. 

Oddly, I had just finished our book club novel a few hours earlier about another girl who passed away just shy of her 25th birthday. 
The Next Thing on My List is about a woman who was giving a girl a ride home from a Weight Watchers meeting, they got in an accident, and the not-yet-25-year-old didn't make it.
Feeling awful for surviving, the woman found a list of "20 Things To Do Before My 25th Birthday" in the girl's purse and set out to do all of the things on the list before the fateful date rolled around.

It's a story about goals and dreams and living each day fully.
And then I got that news.
I haven't spoken to my classmate in a while. 
She was the first person that I ever remembering IMing, way back when everybody had AOL and "You've Got Mail." We played sharades at a sleepover, acting out each other to see if we could guess ourselves. I pulled her name from the hat. I bent down (she is much shorter than I) and said in a little voice, "I'm not a dirty Mexican." 
"Vana!" everyone guessed at once, seeing as diversity was in short supply in our little country town. She just laughed.
I never saw that girl without a smile on her face.
And she has a beautiful daughter. I've never met her, but the pictures show you that her baby has that same joie de vivre you could expect from her mama.

I don't pretend to know Vana well. 
I don't pretend to know the anguish those who knew her day-in and day-out are feeling right now.

I do feel safe to say that life is fragile. We have no guarantees. One comfort to those who grieve her passing has to be that Vana has left behind an incredible legacy of caring and kindness, and to be missed as she much as she already is speaks so highly of this person they love. 
It's also a reminder of how borrowed our time here actually is. 

Doesn't it seem that we owe to those who are gone to be completely here while we can? 

My heart is with those who are missing their friend and loved one.

Sarah :: Plucky in Love

Sarah, aka "Plucky", blogs on the reg, unless she's on vacation or there's a Pretty Little Liars marathon or she's mulling over the implications of the phrase "on fleek." She can't live without iced coffee, a portable phone charger, or equal pay. Say hello!

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