“Death never comes at the right time. Death comes like a thief.”
I read the Facebook message and I slid the phone away, unaffected, as if someone had told me that Thinz had just recently taken a bath. Slid it away back under my pillow as if to deal with it later. Maybe I was still groggy from my alarm or it just refused to register. I don’t know. A part of my mind realised its importance, though. It forced my hand back under the pillow to grab my cell and reread the message.
“Hi Honey, not sure if you knew, Thinz passed away last night. She was in a coma and she’s gone. 🙁 Just wanted to let you know as I know you knew her like I did as well. J”
And, still I wasn’t awake enough.
I went to Twitter. I typed in her name in direct messaging.
No answer. Of course not, you idiot.
And I started thinking of small excuses. I haven’t spoken to J in years. This could be a stupid joke of someone who hacked into her account. For all I knew, her FB had been abandoned long ago. Except I knew that it wasn’t. The voice on that note knew me. So, I went right to Thinz’s facebook wall…and found all the condolences streaming on her timeline.
My boyfriend was still asleep. I held my phone and walked to the bathroom quietly to get ready for work, but I didn’t make it far enough. I must’ve made quite a sound, as before I even sat down on top of the toilet to cry, I heard him jump from the bed looking for me, calling out, “what’s wrong?“
Our history is long, even though we’ve met in person only once. I love her and she is my friend.
We were even talking about possibly meeting up while on my upcoming trip to Montreal, but it would’ve been too far of a drive for either of us. I told her that it wouldn’t be worth it for her and her sister to drive to Montreal for the weekend, thinking we had time. So much time for more trips, later on.
I don’t know her age. I don’t know her birthday. I know she loved her family. I know she was happy with her boyfriend. I know that she had grown so much since we first met. She made friends with just about everybody and listened when you needed her to be your diary.
She took pleasure in the small things, but loved her big rollercoasters. She loved selfies. She loved the internet. She loved a lot, but it wasn’t a verb with her. It wasn’t an action that took energy. I felt like it was just the air around her.
She had just gotten back from a vacation in the states. The details are not available to me, but it seems she fell and hit her head. She had an aneurysm – a word I still need to look up. She fell into a coma. I don’t know how for long. Then, she was gone.
She came home from vacation. She fell and hit and her head. Then, she was gone.
Her death was an insult to her life and it still makes me angry. She fell. She died. Her living friends and relatives suffer in her death, but she was the one that truly got robbed.
Her last social media check in said:
“Home sweet home 😘”