I Lost a Friend

We always hear people talk about making each day count, making sure those you care about know that you do, taking advantage of every opportunity. Every time someone says something like that to me, I vow to do better. Time passes, however, and I begin to forget. It never fails that I get smacked in the face again.

This time, it was a casual friend of mine. She was the housemother at the Kappa house in Manhattan. I really liked her. She was always upbeat and friendly, and she totally immersed herself in sorority life. I didn't get to work with her often, but when I did, she was always helpful and kind. Just the kind of person we wanted running the house. I wish I had known her better, but I just wasn't around enough . . . but I knew her well enough to call her a friend.

She was supposed to go see her daughter on Friday night, and when she didn't arrive and couldn't be reached, her daughter called the police. Unfortunately, they found her in her apartment in the house. It appears as if it was a heart attack or stroke, and very quick. For that I am very grateful.

I have always said that I want to die fast . . . not sick ahead of time, just gone fast. But then something like this happens and I have to rethink it. I ache for her daughter who didn't get to say good-bye to her mom. I ache for the girls at the house who were expecting to return in the fall to find Mom there . . . and she won't be. So maybe going quickly is good for the person who is gone but not so good for the people left behind.

When I looked up the obituary, I found out that Mom was only a year older than I. Man. That hit home. She appeared to be very healthy . . . I would never have thought she would be one to die young. So once again I am reminded to love the ones I love, make every day count, and be the best I can be. Because you never know when your day might come.