It is with a heavy heart that I begin today's post. A little less than a week ago, I received a voicemail from my friend Erin's dad, saying he had bad news about Erin. She had been sick for awhile--I had visited her in the hospital a couple of weeks before, and she had worsened since my visit--and I knew even before I called her dad back what the news was likely to be. I just didn't want to believe it. I called him back as soon as I got home, and even as he gave me the news that Erin had passed, I felt numb, though my heart broke for the rest of her family.
It wasn't until I hung up the phone, turning around to see the blanket she had crocheted for me years ago when Patrick and I had moved out on our own, that I started crying. That blanket summed Erin up so well. It was such a thoughtful gift, personalized just for me. It was blue, because she knew it was my favorite color, and I know she put hours of love and care into creating it just for us. That's who she was.
Erin had the biggest heart of anyone I know. She was always thinking of others, remembered every birthday and holiday, and was just an incredibly caring, loving person. She won people over everywhere she went. Even when I went to see her at the hospital recently, it was amazing how she had befriended every person who interacted with her at the hospital. She was always able to do that.
It's so unfair to me that she was stolen away from us so soon. She was so creative and smart, and I know she would have done amazing things. It breaks my heart that for all the struggles she went through--always downplaying her pain or the severity of her illness so her friends wouldn't worry too much--she was still taken from us so early. Before she could achieve all of the wonderful things I know she would have.
I've always felt undeserving of her friendship, especially as the years have gone by. My life has gotten busier, and I feel that I don't keep in touch with most of my friends as much as I'd like. I can't tell you how many times Erin and I swore to one another we'd make plans--to see a movie, to grab dinner, to just hang out--that never actually materialized. It always seemed like we'd have time. We'd get to those plans eventually. Now the hourglass has run out, and those plans will never materialize. I can't help but wish I'd been better about sticking to all those missed plans, the movie dates that almost were.
That's not to say we didn't still have great times together over the years. From her putting up with my Hanson obsession to me allowing myself to be dragged to the midnight showing of New Moon, we definitely had fun together over the years.
I remember sleepovers at her house, watching The Craft.
I remember her scaring me to death when we pulled out the Ouija board (Pictures of Hanson on each corner of the board, because they were Christian--the closest thing I had to crucifixes), having me convinced that someone just down her street was being murdered.
I remember watching Coyote Ugly for the first time at her house, while I tried (and failed) to catch her ever-elusive cat. She was, of course, amused as usual.
I remember our obsession with both Gwen Stefani and Gavin Rossdale, and her encouragement of my plan to bleach my hair blonde just like my idol Gwen. Luckily, I never did this, though Erin was probably disappointed.
I remember singing along to the Spice Girls in her backyard, soaking up the summer sun and the freedom that comes with being young and carefree.
I remember all of these things and so many more about Erin. She was such a good person, and I feel like I was a better person when I was around her. She was always willing to give people the benefit of the doubt, even when I was determined to be a judgmental bitch. She could find the good in anyone, and was always willing to give whatever she could of herself to others.
It makes me so angry that I can't say these things to her. That I can't rehash the past with her, laughing over the silly things we've done, sharing our writing with one another, and just sharing life. I wish I had said these things to her when I had the chance, that I could have told her how much she meant to me, and how sorry I am that I probably wasn't always the friend that she deserved. It's not fair. It's just not fair.
Since I can't share these things with her, though, I'm sharing them with you. Even if you didn't know Erin, now you at least know about her. Maybe you have someone in your life that you haven't talked to in awhile, that the craziness of life has prevented you from seeing as much as you'd like. Call them, text them, have lunch with them. Let them know you love them. Because one day it might be too late to say those things.
I know today is a day about celebration, and that this post is not exactly a pick-me-up. But, Erin's life deserved celebration. She was vibrant, and loving, and original, and every time I saw her she had a new hair color---she was a living firework, in the best kind of way. So I guess it seems fitting that I'm writing about her on the 4th of July. Tonight, I'll look up and think of her.
Love and miss you Erin, and I know if you were still around, yours would be the first response to this, because it always was.
