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a memory-filled day

June 30, 2002 at 10:28 p.m.

I had one of those dreams early this morning. You know the kind - where you wake up disorriented because you can't define reality anymore?

I was at some party and Sam(Samatha) walked in... one of my best friends in high school. She died the summer after her sophmore year in a senseless car accident. It was like... she was a ghost but didn't know it. She would be there but then she would be gone the next day because that was the anniversary of her death... remember, things make sense in dreams.

I started sobbing - she couldn't understand why. She didn't know what had happened. I got to hold her - I swear I could feel her softness again - that scent of baby powder from her Loves Baby Soft perfume... I didn't tell her she'd passed away 6 years ago, but I just cried and told her about all I'd been up to. I had my guitar there and I got to play my song Float for her, and I had all these pictures that I could show her...

I told her I'd graduated college and what I was up to and she was so there... and then I realized I had put everyone in the party to sleep with my song. And then she was gone again.

But it didn't hurt this time... I had been able to hold her again - to speak to her. I was so contented.

Suddenly I awoke and the first thing I did was grab my old high school journal out of my headboard book shelf and found the programme from Sam's funeral. Her date of death was today's date, June 30th, 1996.

I had forgotten when it was, and then this dream attacked me... I knew what I needed to do.

I got up, told mom what had happened and we cried a little, then I put on my UNT alumni shirt, grabbed my guitar and violin and headed off to the cemetery.

It took about an hour to find her grave... it had been at least 2 years since I'd been there, and even though I know the general area, her parents had opted for a tree instead of a big headstone, so it always takes some detective work to find it.

I finally dropped to the ground next to Sam and soaked in my surroundings. I played her Float and sang I am a Child of God to her... I played some of her favorite violin songs (she was in orchestra with me) and told her about all the boys I'd dated in college and how scared I was to go to Arizona and how much I missed the president of the Reva Fan club:)

I don't know how many hours I was there, but I talked for a while, and listened. She listened too, and sometimes when I asked a good question, the breeze blew the pinwheels next to her grave.

Then I told her I'd be back soon and got back in my car. I'd been fine until then, but then the memories started flooding back... the day I found out.

I was at my choir teacher's house, collecting money for dresses... his daughter told me what she'd heard on the news and somehow I made it home and collapsed in the driveway screaming. Mom found me there...

Chris' mom took care of a few of us andd let us eat and sleep at her house for a few days as we just numbly moved about. But I had to suck it up because the day after the funeral I had to leave for my first trip to Europe with my family. It was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do.

I really hate those memories. I had pushed them away for years and then today, smack in my face, was the saddest day of my life playing in constant replay.

I reread what she'd written to me... poems, and yearbook entries.

She was there for the worst year of my life as I fought off clinical depression and watched as I lost my grip and had to be taken away for a little while. She took a whole page to write all the things she saw beautiful in me so that I'd read it and know and never go back to self-loathing again. It worked.

I miss Sam so much. Some days in high school I'd hurt so bad I would run to the bathroom and hide in a stall, just crying. I wasn't ready for her to go. And I know that I will see her again.. I will hold her and I will be able to thank her for all the love she gave to me... but sometimes that doesn't help. I'm so sorry I can't share my life with her now like I want to.

ug. Don't mean to be a downer. It's hitting me hard this year, for some reason. I didn't feel so loved sometimes in my youth, but she was there to convince me otherwise, and then she was gone. When I hurt, I miss her. This was her place. My ever-present hug.

Supercrack wants everyone to go hug someone please. Be that hug that someone needs.

ps. recital pics are next, this time I promise:)

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wife. mother. musician. bloggerist for 7 years. holding on for dear life.

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