1996

1996: "it was the best of times- it was the worst of times..."

that was 20 years ago, y'all. I understand the amazement with which my elders marvel at the passage of time- so much can happen in such a short amount of time.

What's awesome about the passage of THIS particular two decades is how technology has connected us- without the internet, my husband and I would not have been able to connect and get to know each other.  Without the internet, I would not be able to connect with my high school friends. And because of this connection through micro-fibers and over the miles, we were able to come together in Birmingham and re-unite after 20 years. We talked about the Present, we talked about the Future... and we dared to talk about the Past.

I posted a picture of us on Facebook at noon.  Throughout the afternoon, my phone lit up with notifications of "comments" and "likes" like it was Christmas or the Fourth of July. One comment in particular made me catch my breath: "I know it's already been said, but it really does seem like Erin should be there." Erin died in May 1994- the end of our sophmore year in high school. She and I had argued two days before her death in a car accident... I was in shock for a long time...
We had mentioned Erin here and there- Erin: the raven-haired beauty, unique, loud, lovely... she walked to the beat of her own drummer... which one did not do in 7th grade... but she did...

That evening at dinner, I don't know what spurred my friend to it, but she excused herself and returned to the table. A few minutes later, the hostess approached our table with a chair and sat it between us.

I looked up at the hostess: was this a blast from the past? Should I know who this girl is? What was the surprise?

I looked down at the chair. I looked at my friend. She was looking at her hands. "for Erin?" I breathed.

She nodded.

Did I say the curse word or did I just think it? And I silently eye-balled everyone around the table and glanced at the chair intermintently and mouthed "for Erin." And I lost it. Right there in a Mexican restruant in Birmingham, AL. I cried. I cried for all the time I lost in high school. I cried for all the pain I had bottled up. And we held hands and wept.

22 years after her death... 20 years after we graduated from high school. We cried.

As I drove back home alone, I wept. For the fact that I have such a special group of friends... some I have known since 3rd grade. I do not take that for granted. 

And I cried for a new revelation about grief:

What's misunderstood about grief is that greiving can take a long time. For me there are some tragedies that I can't "get over." Tragedy marks you. It can lead you down rabbit holes and you never come up for air. Or those rabbit holes lead you to Jesus... depends on the path you take at the cross roads.

What I've learned about grief is:
Don't be afraid to feel

don't be afraid of what people will say

don't be afraid to ask for help

God never said it would be an easy ride... only that He would be with us along the way...

for Erin: