Today I find myself grieving again. Almost 3 years ago a friend of mine was killed by her boyfriend and today I cannot stop thinking about her. So let me tell you about her. The funny thing is, I was never really close to her. She was the daughter in a family who were friends with my family, my mother is her sister’s godmother and so we kind of grew up together but also not. She was, after all, 7 years younger than me (18 when she died), and they also lived on the other side of the country; so we didn’t see each other very often. Yet, when she died, I was completely thrown. Maybe it was that she was so young (such a waste!), or maybe it was that I had always felt a kind of kinship with her because, like me, she seemed to stick out somehow from the rest of her family. I only really got to know her better through the stories about her that were told at the funeral and by her family since then. It was her death that threw me out of my complacent “God doesn’t have much to do with me” kind of mindset and it was seeing her family being comforted and reassured by their faith that made me enter a church for anything other than a Christmas service for the first time in about 5 or 6 years. That is why I call her my friend. She wasn’t, really, before she died but I feel that she has influenced me in my faith and my life ever since and I am deeply grateful for that. I wish though, that she didn’t have to die to become this influence. I feel guilty about not having gotten to know her better before she did.
Writing this has been good. The difficult days are rare by now and it feels good to indulge my grief now and then but now I can draw the line for today because I wrote it all down. Thank you all for listening.