Day: December 26, 2018

Several months ago, I wrote about a good friend’s daughter, who was maybe 8 at the time, and a glittery cross she gave me as a gift, insisting that I “need to sparkle” (you can read that post here).  That was at least 15 years ago, but I loved the gift and her comment so much that I still have the necklace, and I still think of her every time I wear it.  How could I not, after a heartfelt compliment like that?

That little girl grew up and became an adult, as kids tend to do, no matter how much we want them to stay small.  I still talked to her mom, even after they moved to another city, and I kept up with her daughter’s teenage years, graduation, and young adult life from pictures and long-distance conversations with her mother.

A few days before Christmas, that little girl, now 24 years old, went into cardiac arrest and could not regain consciousness.  The day before Christmas Eve, she died.

I am still in shock that she’s gone.  I feel sick at the agony her mother is going through.  I vividly remember a strong-willed, gentle, lovely little girl who followed me around when she was small, who grew up into a smart, independent young lady who is gone way, way too soon.  I can see her crooked smile, imagination dancing in her eyes, hear her quiet laugh, as if she is standing right in front of me.

I sat at Christmas dinner with my husband and kids last night, and as they laughed and joked and had fun, I laughed too, but I was also just watching them around the table, taking them in, feeling everything about them and holding onto all of it as tightly as I could.

I took out that cross necklace and polished it and shined it until it sparkled like it is supposed to, like she said it should. Like she said I should.  But I couldn’t wear it.  I hung it back up for now.  I will be able to wear it again someday.  Soon.  Just not yet.