On My Weekend

On Saturday the Marine and I attended Lexa's memorial. It was both heartbreaking and healing, but I guess that is the point, right?

So many people came out to say good-bye to the young girl who'd made their lives better. Outside on the green lawn that was scattered with leaves, people told their stories. Doves were released, and people laughed when the doves decided to do their own thing--something we're sure Lexa was responsible for.

I won't lie and say I'm healed from the pain, but I'm not as angry as I was. The sadness isn't taking up as much of my soul as it did in the beginning. Lexa never wanted people to be sad. She believed in happiness and living. Following dreams and attaining goals.

It's time for me to get back to that.

And I've started.

Sunday we joined some friends at the Olive Garden to celebrate Veteran's Day. It was nice to get out, eat delicious food, and laugh. People who know me well, realize if I don't get out of the house once in a while, I'll fall into a pattern of living, much like a hermit.

I like being a hermit. Things get done when I stay home.

Usually.

Okay, not much has gotten done since I started staying home after working at the pool. I've been taking it easy. Spending time with my family, helping the Munchkin with homework, and catching up on all the hours of snuggling I missed out on.

Housework can wait.

How did you celebrate Veteran's Day? Did you thank a Veteran for his or her sacrifices?

R.S.

On Rest in Paradise, Lexa

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.


R.S.

On Lexa

Life is a fickle bitch. 

One day you could have the whole world in the palm of your hand, and the next, everything could be tossed around you like broken rag dolls. 

As anyone who has read this blog knows, I spent the last several months as a lifeguard. During that time, I met an amazing, vibrant, beautiful and caring, young girl. She is on Varsity Swim Team and Varsity Cheer. She came in early to swim laps, even though usually she ended up keeping me company in the early morning hours. 

She is only fifteen.

She made me smile every day.

She made me laugh, and she made me shake my head. 

She reminded me what it was like to be a teenager, and she would ask my advice on what to do to get away from the drama of being a teenager.

I spoke with her the other day, through Facebook. Just small talk about working out, getting in shape, and craziness of life. 

That was at 4 PM.

The next evening I found out she was in the hospital. She'd suffered a brain aneurysm. 

This beautiful girl, with her big smile and laughing eyes isn't visiting the pool anymore. She's fighting for her life in a hospital, attached to a ventilator. 

She is strong and a fighter, and I know she won't give up, but she can use help. I'm not religious, but I believe in the power of faith. Right now, every little bit helps. 

I've spent the last several days wishing I'd stopped to let her know what her visits meant to me, to make time for those plans we talked about. When I get the chance, the first thing I'll say to her is, "Thank you for caring enough to be you. Thank you for being my friend." 

Life is a fickle bitch, and you never know when everything will change. Don't wait to tell your loved ones how you feel, or how thankful you are for them. Don't put off having coffee with that friend, because you can't always do it tomorrow.

Keep Fighting Lexa. You're in my thoughts. Always.

R.S.