March 6, 2010
When somebody in my life passes away, I often re-evaluate things.
(to read the rest of the post, click the title above)
When my friend Amy died of lieukemia, I vowed to take my personal relationships more seriously, to be a more generous, intuitive friend like she was. My Aunt Titi was the ultimate in old-school style - with her impeccable nail polish, Garbo sunglasses and snow white hair, she was like CoCo Chanel. When she passed away, she impressed upon me the image of the woman I'd grow into - and suddenly I wasn't afraid of getting old.
Andy and I found out recently that one of our former art students has committed suicide.
I don't know if I should be blogging about this, or if it is offensive or tasteless in anyway - and if it is I apologize. If any of his friends or family are bothered by this - I'll remove it. I'm just not sure how to get my thoughts together; where to go from here.
His family life was always shrouded in mystery to us; we got conflicting reports of family problems, sometimes homelessness, the possibility of deportation - but it seemed through all of it he was okay. He was indelibly sweet and kind. He and his best friend would always come to class laughing - trying to quiz Andy on Batman trivia, grinning and seemingly happy.
He was almost startlingly affectionate to me. "Heeeey! Veronicaaaa! You look so pretty today! You need to have more cookies, you look too skinny" and would then give me a tremendous hug. Thinking back to all those hugs and worrying - did I hug him back? Did I tell him he was a good kid? But these thoughts lead nowhere.
He was a talented artist - much to his denial. In a portfolio painting class, he insisted he was terrible, but his work had charm and honesty. We pushed him to go to art school, but ultimately he decided against it.
I was stopped at an intersection yesterday when a van turned a corner and smashed into me. If he had turned just a degree further, he would have plowed into my driver's side door. It was a very frightening experience.
But I couldn't help but get out of the car, in a bizarre haze, thinking about G., and just shrug. "Well, it happens." Five people came running at me, asking if I was okay, telling me to call the police, saying lots of things like 'I saw everything!' .
It was a weird day ... hearing the news about G. in the morning and then the accident in the afternoon. I don't know if this time I can "re-evaluate" things for the positive, just be thankful for divine intervention.
If you feel alone - no matter who you are - someone in this world loves you. Truly.
All we can do is tell people we love them.