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comforting words you hear.

She died tragically, less than four weeks after acheiving her goal of procuring a degree in teaching. She was so young. She was a drinker and far from innocent, yet 75 percent of my generation believes that sex by the fourth date is long enough to wait and still consider themselves of high moral values. She loved children to the point that she hoped to devote the rest of her life to sheparding them into the turbulent years to come after grade school, years when recess was no longer a part of the curriculum. Kelly was different, she and I couldn't relate on many levels, but one of my best friends was in love with her.

They met in a gas station some years back, if I were to guess I'd say four. The weeks and months since that moment, I was so self absorbed and distant, it's hard to pinpoint the exact year, all I can say is that he took much heat from his friends for dating a girl he met while they were mutually wasted, buying smokes in a Hanover Park gas station at 12:30 in the morning. They had a common bond evident to the two of them and their immediate family. From the removed perspective of his friends, they were a disaster when together. They encouraged eachother to live the (Miller) high life 6 nights a week. Their friends were unmotivated characters who enjoyed the company of cheap cold beer, cafeteria tables, flourescent lights and knock off wal-mart televisions broadcasting the triumphs and failures of the david's and goliaths of every and any sport one could think of. Spending a night with the happy couple at Season Tickets (the afformentioned suburban dive bar (as described by me, an opinionated city dweller)) was not top of the pops on any occassion save maybe the announcement of their impending engagement.

It was common knowledge amongst Paul's friends and aquaintences that he and Kelly were to be married. The question was when? Some put the proposal at about six months from this past July, others thought it would happen as soon as she graduated, mere weeks after she so tragically passed away, upward and onward to the great unknown, the place some called heaven, a garden I hope to God, exists. Paul's mom considered Kelly a daughter in law long before the thought of marriage entered his mind. His entire extended family cherished her, held her in high regard regardless of any flaws she might have brought to the table. If Paul loved her, then she was a welcome addition to their family.

I smoked pot with both Kelly's mother and her cousin. Kelly's mother was a riot. To me she seemed lost, forty some years old, yet ready, holding, and able to smoke a group of us out last July. Four or five joints must have been passed around a table of six that night, and we all spent at least three hours laughing our asses off about everything, anything and nothing. Her mom picked 13 drunk kids up from my best friends wedding to ensure that no-one would drive home drunk. And at the wake, she greeted each and every well wisher, recalling the moments or memories she shared with them. Such an awe inspiring display of courage and love through the hours of heartwrenching despair and longing.

Kelly was hit while crossing Barrington road late one friday night two months ago. She and Paul always took cabs home from the bar to ensure their safety, for they enjoyed their booze as much as their buzz. On that fateful night, Kelly left her purse inside as the couple left the bar to wait for a cab. Between the time he last set his eyes upon her tender gaze and the moment she lay dying in the street, little is known. Somehow, someway, for some inexplicable reason, she ran across one of the busier suburban roads in Hanover Park and was hit by a car travelling northbound on the opposite side of the street.

In an inexplicable twise of fate, the very car that hit her was that of a nurse who was on her way to work at the very hospital in which Kelly would exhale her final breath. Her life was ended. Her boyfriend was hysterical, left with so many unanswered questions. Why? Why? Fucking tell me why? And yet there were no answers, no explanations why he could no longer hold her close at night, whisper I love you, or share a cocktail or three.

A close friend of mine iterated a story from the service I was unable to attend. When the preacher asked God to give a sign that Kelly was safe in his hands, amongst the streams and rolling hills of heaven, dancing and singing in harmony with the angels, Paul noticed a butterfly land on the wreath of flowers he had purchased and placed near the casket. To Paul, the butterfly symbolized the solemn assurance that indeed her spirit was ok. With this sign he could live knowing and believing that the supernatural and mystical serendipitous acts in life might actually have purpose and meaning.

I received a card from Kelly's family in the mail this evening. A sticker in the shape of a cross helped to seal the contents, a picture of a dove and a note........

just when friends are needed
you find them always near;
just when shadows darken,
their comforting words you hear.

Tonight I tip my glass to the memory of a girl one of my good friends loved with every ounce of his soul. may she live on in a glorious dominion of eternal love.

sincerely,
whoisjobe?