Yesterday, my dear friend, Lexa passed away after a nine day battle with an aneurysm. She was an amazing person, and had her whole life ahead of her.
She was Fifteen.
What makes things like this happens?
Why are the young, vibrant, good, and loving, so often taken from us, while the abusive, murderous criminals are given long lives?
Someone once told me, "Some souls are too good, too pure for the evil of this world."
I'd have to agree.
Her death has hit me hard, has made me re-evaluate life, but I'll be honest. Right now, I'm too angry to take solace in those re-evaluations. I'm too angry to remember the good times, the positives. I'm too angry to be thankful she is no longer in pain.
I'm angry she's gone. I'm angry this happened to her, and that she'll never laugh again, or show such excitement when she's able to hold a handstand. I'm angry the doctors couldn't do anything, and that I never got to say goodbye. I'm angry her parents had to go through this, had to lose their child.
I'm angry, because it isn't fair.
Life isn't fair.
I'm angry the sympathy vultures have come out. The people who couldn't be bothered with her in life are suddenly so "sorry" she's gone. They post their 'love' for her in every public forum, and are the first to seek out grief counselors at her school. They want to make themselves feel better, look better, and get the attention they feel they deserve, for having known Lexa.
They didn't care about her, they didn't take time to get to know her. They didn't laugh with her, talk about dreams, fears, and goals. And now they can't.
Everyone grieves differently.
Some people go about life like nothing has changed, because if they don't, they'll crumble into a ball.
Some people think 'that's life' and move on.
I hold my grief tight and feel every bit of the emotion. It colors my life. It will always color my life, though each day the colors will change.
Lexa isn't the first person who touched my life and was taken too soon, and she won't be the last, because, life isn't fair.
One day, I'll be able to be thankful for the positives, not cry, but smile when I think of her. That day isn't today.
Today, I mourn for the young girl who told me I was her big sister, and that she loved me even when I was grouchy. I mourn for the girl who strutted her stuff, because she was beautiful, and I mourn for the girl who was also oblivious to the guys who watched her.
Today, I mourn for Lexa, may she rest in Paradise, where her love and beauty can shine on the world without pain, without hurt, and without judgment.
Rest in Paradise, Lexa. Until we Merry Meet Again.