Late Night Guilt

Sometimes I feel like I might never get over it.

Earlier this summer, an older friend of mine was killed in a car accident along with all other passengers. She was well-known and well-liked among the college community, and she was (still is) sorely missed. To be honest, when I first met her I thought she was a little too curt. By the time, she graduated I looked up to her as an older sister. She was smart and nice and good - genuinely, good. She bugged me to do my homework, cajoled me into attending church regularly with her, impressed my parents, gave me good advice, was a friend.

When she died, it was like being sucker-punched.

Almost a day to the month before her birthday. I'd never had anyone close to me pass on before, nothing to look back on, nothing to compare this to.

Like...I just remember I didn't believe it for a few hours. But then everyone began panicking on her wall and I called my mother hysterical and it was confirmed and...holy shit, I'll never forget what that felt like. I just couldn't understand it. I cried before I even allowed myself to believe it, like my body was overriding my mind's adamant desire to keep holding on to hope that we were all mistaken. I have never understood what it's like to continuously - continuously - cry. Even exhausted, my face hurting from it, my skin raw and sensitive, I couldn't stop. My mother came to get me from my apartment, took my best friend too, and we cried.

I feel like sometimes I'm still crying.

Her Facebook is still up. It's turned into a living memorial of sorts - those of us that her miss leave her notes about our lives, or just drop by to tell her we miss her, or simply post words of simple love and desire to have her back.

It's particularly difficult at night. I don't know what it is about the night time that makes grief swell and swell until is giant and all-consuming and all-encompassing. Perhaps it's that I find myself drifting to read the messages on her wall, looking at her pictures, watching the way people interact with her wall like she'll log on and comment. I'm really bad about keeping in touch with people whom I don't have direct access to. I tend to forget I read messages, or fool myself into believing I responded. With her, I hadn't spoken to her - realtime rapid fire conversation - in over a month before she died.

I cannot forgive myself for blowing it off, saying 'I'll catch her next time' or 'Gosh, I'll get on Skype in a few hours to talk to her". I cannot forgive myself for not texting her more often or calling more often or shooting her an e-mail or something.


It's probably the biggest reason I can't seem to get over it.

I can't.

And it makes me sad because if this how I feel in the position of one who didn't know her as well as I'd wished, I can't begin to imagine how her best friends and family feel.

I don't want to.