That long already?

26 Sep

Two years ago today, I sat down at my dorm room desk for a quick Facebook check before my 9:25 Philosophy class, looking for a couple minutes of entertainment.

Instead, the page was filled with “R.I.P Liz” and “I love you, Liz,” from dozens of people.

This couldn’t be real.

The next few minutes were frantic, checking her profile, texting people from back home. And then I found out it was true. She was really gone.

The girl who had welcomed me to a new school when I was nine years old. We were really only close in elementary school, but in fourth grade, she was one of my best friends. Without her, I probably would have transferred. She was the one I had made a parfait stand with the summer I was 11 – lemonade was overdone. That girl who would show up at my door occasionally, years after I thought we had outgrown each other’s friendship, just to hang out. There was “You gotta see it to believe it,” and “Upstairs to the library.”

Every time I walk into the downtown Spokane library, where you have to climb a flight of stairs to reach the public library, I think of her.

I spent my day on the phone with people from high school, because my college friends couldn’t understand. They didn’t know her. They didn’t know how this girl could manage to make friends with anyone, and make them feel special. Always laughing and smiling, but never fake.

I haven’t been home all that much since she died, I probably wouldn’t have seen her in this time frame anyways. She probably would have faded from my life, and I would have watched her life scroll by online, just like so many of the people that I grew up with whose paths have diverged from mine. But with Liz, I know she would have come back. I would have been 25, or 40, or 60, and she would have been at my door – “I was just in the neighborhood, want to hang out?” That’s what she did.

If Liz was still here, I  would think of her on rare occasions, “I wonder what she’s up to,” stalk her online, and that would be that. I barely go a day without thinking about her now.

It’s been two years. I wish I wasn’t thinking about her today.


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