I still remember...

I've been blogging with three fabulous women for over two years and have been enjoying all the fun topics we come up with week after week. If you want to see what we've discussed in the past, check out our posts here.

This week, Moma Rock chose the topic: Memorial Day was originally a day to remember those who served in the military, but has expanded to include anyone whose lives touched ours in some way. It's a day of remembrance. Who did you remember on Memorial Day?

Before reading ahead, first see what everyone else had to say on this topic:
Froggie
Mom of Many
Moma Rock

A while back, I wrote a post about my grandparents and the memories I have of those no longer with us. This time around, I've decided to talk about someone who passed away long before she should have.

When I was in second grade (same age as my oldest child is now), I met Liz. Her name was Elisabeth, but she went by Liz. I liked that she spelled her name with an "s" though.) We were in class together and she was just nice to me in general. She'd stand up for me if other kids were being mean. We eventually started getting together outside of school to hang out at either of our houses. I loved her house, how it was nestled into the woods and looked very open and spacious, while also having a rustic cabin feel. Her mom and sister were really nice, as well. Most of the time was spent hanging out doing what girls did back when there was no Internet...making up dance routines, watching our favorite TV shows and movies, playing outside (I remember having fun just jumping through piles of leaves), having weekend sleepovers, shopping, working on school projects, etc. She was just very easygoing and we never fought. She exuded a beauty, grace and confidence that I could only wish to have, but I enjoyed basking in the radiance she gave off. We weren't really in the same circle of friends, but she didn't ignore me when she was with friends I wasn't as close with. She got along well with my family and could hold her own in conversations with my mom, sounding more like an adult than a kid when they were talking. She claimed that we were best friends and I didn't argue with that.

Then we got to junior high and ended up going our separate ways. Naturally, the popular crowd snatched her up right away. Who could blame them? And who could blame her for choosing that lifestyle? Junior high was torturous if you weren't popular. The one thing that separated her from that crowd was that she didn't lose herself. She was still genuinely nice. We didn't hang out anymore and maybe said hi in passing, but she wasn't mean like the other popular girls. (Another girl I was also friends with in grade school chose to go that route and was mean about it too. I still resent her for that.) In the meantime, I had met my BFF (even though we didn't go to the same school) and was so focused on bonding with her that Liz's foray into the popular crowd didn't faze me as much as it could have. When it comes to friendship, sometimes when one door closes, another opens. (It has happened at other times in my life as I got older, as well.)

Before I started high school, I ran into her at Children's Memorial Hospital. Again, we just said "hi" in passing, but I think we both felt awkward about seeing each other there. I was embarrassed about people knowing I had hypothyroidism at the time and she had even more of a reason for feeling weird about her classmates seeing her there. I found out a few weeks later that she was there because she had cancer. I think it might have been leukemia, but I can't remember. All I know is that things happened pretty fast after that. I'd see her around school with a scarf covering her bald head, but she'd be smiling like it was no big deal.

A couple of months into second semester of freshman year, my algebra teacher announced that Liz wasn't doing too well and that we should all sign a card for her but not tell her "get well soon," as that wasn't in the cards for her. I know this was so hard for the teacher, whose voice kept breaking as she was talking about it. I signed the card, telling her she was very brave. The very next day, the teacher had even worse news to share with the class, as Liz had passed away the same night she had received our card. The news was shocking and sad. She was so young and barely even got to experience high school. She had so much going for her until cancer took that all away. I couldn't even imagine how her family was feeling. I also couldn't bring myself to go to the funeral. I didn't tell my parents about Liz's passing because I didn't want them to make me go to it either. I don't know if it was a social anxiety (being amongst all the popular people and trying to claim that she was my friend at one time), an inability to cope with the death of someone so young, or just a complete detachment prior to her passing (something I felt in later years when Alzheimer's took my grandma long before her passing). I felt bad staking any emotional claim to her, as we hadn't spent time together at all since fifth grade. I also felt guilty not being visibly upset over her passing. It was such a conflict of emotions altogether. Looking back on it, I feel bad for hiding this information from my parents and was more forthcoming about peoples' deaths in the future. Especially since they had to hear about her passing from someone other than myself. There was also the complete awkwardness around her sister. I liked her sister, but I just didn't know what to say to her and avoided her when I saw her. I was afraid of saying the wrong thing. Her sister held her own and this was just weeks after Liz's passing. It was surprising to see how calm and collected she was.

I still think about Liz often. Something will remind me of her and my mind will go back to that time when we were friends. I can still hear her voice in my head and picture her face. There are times I wonder what she would be like had she never been sick and was still alive now. I have a feeling she'd be someone who would change the world in some way. She just had that way about her and I could see her striving for world peace or helping people in less advantaged countries. She'd still be beautiful, gracious and intelligent and treat people with respect, no matter how well she knew or liked them. I think about all the stuff she has missed out on since her passing and it makes me sad for her. And at other times, I feel like she's truly at peace because she passed away during a simpler time of life, when there was more innocence in the world. She was around for such a short time but enriched others' lives just by being in them. There have been others from my class who have passed away since graduating, but I don't think about them the way I think about her.

Rest in peace, Liz.