Friday, Oct 3, 2003. I noticed the message light on my answering machine was flashing, and pressed the "Play" button.
I don't normally worry about whether I get messages in time, because most of the messages I get on my answering machine are from telemarketers, or they're non-messages, where people call and hang up as soon as they get the machine. The most annoying ones are the ones that are not addressed to me, but to whoever had my phone number before me. It seems like thse are usually from a lawyer's office or a collection agency. Since non-important messages comprise 90% of what I hear, it doesn't usually matter when I listen to them.
This time, the message had been recorded a day or 2 earlier, and was from my new friend and fellow classmate. And this time, I regretted not hearing it on the day it was recorded.
She was calling to let me know that her oldest son had passed away. He'd been at a party at a friends' house, and something went awry. The memorial service would be on Saturday, and she probably wouldn't be in class Monday night - would I mind letting the professor know, and also telling our small group?
Matthew was young... 21, I think. Her first-born. A sensitive boy who grew into an artistic, sensitive young man. I never had the chance to meet him, but I know his younger brother, and I listen to his mom's stories, so I have an idea of what he was like. The world is a poorer place for his absence, but she is a richer woman for having had him in her life.
I passed along her news as requested, and on that Saturday I drove to the Memorial Service location, to provide what support I could with my presence, and my hugs.
They say the first year after a death is the hardest... the first holiday without that person, the first birthday, the first anniversary of their loss.... for my friend, that year of firsts is almost over.
She knows that I'm thinking of her this week, as she comes to the first anniversary of that horrible night. And I know that she's doing well; coping, allowing herself to grieve when needed, remembering the good things about Matthew.
At the Memorial Service, towards the end, the speaker asked us to close our eyes and think of our favorite memory of Matthew. To see him in our mind's eye, alive and happy as he was in that memory. Then she encouraged us to hold fast to THAT picture of him, to remember him THAT way, and to keep him alive in our hearts.
I'm sure it helps, but I'm also sure that my friend would rather not be facing this particular anniversary.
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