Tragedy + Death = Togetherness

I still keep in touch with two friends from Whyville, and they both convinced me to write this story for the Times (hehahe, I LOVE writing for the Times), so here goes.

When I was four, I started school, and of course made my friends! Some moved away, but one in particular stayed. We had SO much in common! We both loved dogs, we both loved crayons and we both loved drawing daisies, so we had heaps of great conversations! We copied each other and loved making up new games for recess. We even invented a way to get around eating gross food from the cafeteria!

As the years progressed, we became better friends; soon yo-yos and the Spice Girls were the coolest things ever and we were always over at each other's houses. Then we were chosen to be school models to model the uniform and the new Tech Block. We also had some really bad fights that left us both with tear stains down our cheeks but we'd soon make up and be inseparable again! As we got older our interests slowly started falling; we both still loved dogs, crayons and drawing daisies, but it wasn't enough to make a friendship like we needed. Then my parents decided to put an application in for Intermediate school (I think for you Americans that's like a special Junior High). I was accepted, went for an interview and before I knew it, I was in tears, saying my goodbyes to my best friend that had been there for me for 6+ years. Even though we were in the same city, it's not the same seeing her smile everyday in class and being told, "THAT'S IT... Step outside, girls, until you stop talking!"

We still saw each other sometimes, and exchanged phone calls, too. I loved her family! Especially her Mum! Her mum was mine, and my mum was hers. She could lift my spirits no matter what! When I found out my uncle had cancer I called her mum and she comforted me with her kind words and warm smile.

High school started. She and I weren't really friends anymore -- the one thing that was holding us together was our mums and their friendship. We went to movies together, but our talks were about our different lives and drama class and essays. Our lives had both taken different turns: I was Ms. Social Butterfly and she really cracked open the books.

Two months ago, I was walking home from one of my friend's houses and found a leaf that reminded me of my old pal. The very same type of leaf had been our 'good luck charm'. I thought, "I really should call her and thank her and her mum for their friendship and encourgement...." But I never did.

This morning I got a call. I was all prepared to tell this person off for waking me up from my slumber... but it was my old friend, and she said, "Something terrible's happened, and I need to tell you...."

She began a story that lasted an hour, and it was hard to listen to it all. To make a long story short, her mum got three tumors 5 months back, which turned into cancer in her liver, lungs and bones. They made a final family trip, told that her mum would live 2 months, maximum. They went to L.A. and her mum got worse and worse, so they moved onto England where she revisited her home and saw her family. Her mum passed away on the 10th of December.

When you're told this on the phone, it makes it ten times worse. I couldn't talk, I was crying to hard, so I passed the phone to my Mum. It felt so surreal that I kept expecting my second mum to jump on the phone and chirp happily, "Hey, sweetie! How's life?" But it never happened.

What's my point? It's simple. Tragedy + Death = Togetherness. I never, ever ever want to wait for Tragedy & Death to bring me together with people again. Is a phone call going to be so bad? No.

I'm sure everyone reading this has someone who means something to them, a family member, mum, uncle, cousin, grandparents, or a friend from middle/primary school. Please, pick up the phone and say, "Hey, friend! How's life?" especially during the holidays, because those four words show that you care. Hopefully, my new equation will soon be, Happiness + Caring = Togetherness.

Now I'm off to my friend's house to help her pack her mum's things away. I'll finish this article with a poem that I've been told many times. It's not mine, and I don't know who wrote it, but here it is:

When I am dead, cry for me a little,
Think of me sometimes,
But not too much.
Think of me now and then,
As I was in life.
At some moments it's pleasant to recall,
But not for too long.
Leave me in peace,
And I shall leave you in peace.
And while you live,
Let your thoughts be with the living.

Oh, my favourite part!

This is Tech... signing off!

Editor's Note: According to some quick internet research, the above poem is called "Poem for the Living", and is/was spoken over the dead by Native Americans in the Pacific Northwest (specifically, it was quoted by Ishi, the last of the Yahi people).