Loss

First  - some follow up on my last post.  After wallowing in self pity for the better part of a month, I went into my email archives and DELETED the errant emails.  After completing THAT little task, I managed to delete the archive that was added to my drive in error.  There.  No more wallowing for me.  The guy has been gone for the better part of five years (fired), why should I allow his hatred to bring me down?

Now, onward.  I can't really say "upward", because, well...Tracy died.  Yes, she was sick.  REALLY sick.  But still.  She was meant to live into old age, snickering and snarking with the rest of us.  Plus, she really loved my Nooze.  She would have loved to know the outcome of those SATs.  [Technically, Nooze could apply to college right now.  At AGE THIRTEEN.]

I've been trying to find the words to describe how I feel.  Lost? Sad? Empty? Achy? The answer is a resounding "YES" to all of the above.  Tracy was somehow larger than life, in spite of her illness.  She acknowledged her sickness, flipped it the bird (more than once), and moved on.

When my mother died, Tracy emailed me.  She was devastated on my behalf.  She was living in southern Maine at the time, and immediately offered to drive North from her house to attend both visiting hours and the funeral with me.  You know, so I'd have a friendly face nearby.  She was going to skip dialysis to be with me.  I'd known her for less than a year at the time.  THAT was the kind of friend that she was.  I declined, since, well, I am familiar with what skipping dialysis can do to a person.  To this very day, I regret declining the offer.  It was my one opportunity to meet TL in person.

When I turned forty, Tracy called me as a surprise.  This was the only time I ever heard her voice. [We texted regularly, but had never spoken before.]  After making sure to wish me a VERY happy fortieth birthday (DUDE!), she squealed, "So! You made it WAY past thirty and DID NOT DIE! You were SUCH a DRAMA QUEEN as a teenager!"  

Yeah.  It seems that I had casually mentioned my teenage fear of dying before the 'ripe old age of thirty', and how I had a mini breakdown when I turned sixteen - because it was 'OLD'.  I don't remember the context of the conversation, but it happened.  It may seem a minor detail, but she remembered it...word for word.

So here I am.  Two weeks after she left us, struggling to describe how much she meant to me, in the random, weird, most hysterically bizarre ways.  Tracy, my friend.  I miss you. I miss the Boxes of Random, the Scrabble Kid Texts, the emails, and the Amazon Books that I would send you just because they were on your wish list.  I will miss you forever.

You will, however, NOT be forgotten.  My monthly food donation now includes a note that states "This donation is given in loving memory of Tracy Lynn Kaply 1968-2014.  Gone but NEVER forgotten."  My friend (the Librarian) will be giving Random Books to school kids with a similar inscription.  These will be kids who could never afford books of their own.  I figure you'd like that best.

I miss you, Tracy.  Now and always.

Much love,

rennratt