Saturday marked the 7th anniversary of the day my whole world shook. Growing up you think you'll live forever. When you hear about parents or grandparents or kids dying, you think "Oh that will never happen to me. That only happens to other people." Then your grandfather might pass away from some old people's disease...you experience a little taste of loss. Then maybe an uncle that lived a hard life fighting his demons might go before his time. But then you're still convinced this is as bad as it'll get. Then one night when you're laying in bed, getting ready to go to sleep...when you hear your phone ringing downstairs and you think about ignoring it...but decide to run downstairs to answer and then you are on autopilot...driving to the hospital in a trance, praying that it's all just an overreaction. Then you're 10 minutes from the hospital and your phone rings again. You answer and you all the sudden feel like the wind has been knocked out of you. You manage to hold it together long enough to drive the rest of the way to the hospital...continuing to pray that the doctors were wrong. That they had their patients mixed up. I run to the ER entry and my legs buckle and the reality starts to set in. My world as I know it...will never be the same again.
I can try to explain how the tightness in my chest felt like it was smothering me, I was drowning. How I felt like I would never catch my breath again. The hours that I spent crying in the shower so my kids didn't see how broken I really was. How I put on a brave face and made the trek every day to make sure her sweet 15 month old baby was okay. How my heart broke when I'd be rocking her to sleep and she'd call me mommy, because she didn't understand why Beelay & Slou could call me mommy and she didn't have anyone to call mommy anymore. I can tell you all about how I would call her cell phone just to get her voicemail so I could hear her voice again, but until you lose your best friend...you'll never be able to truly grasp the feeling.
I hope that none of you have ever felt that earth shattering pain. And as bad as it was on me, I'm not the only person she left behind. The void that her mom, sister, husband and baby (who's now 8) had to learn to live with...is something I hope I never experience firsthand.
On September 29, 2005 my best friend Terri Christine Kown Turner died of a massive heart attack at the age of 27. For weeks I wrote down every memory I ever had of her. I was terrified of forgetting her. For years when I really wanted to talk to her, I wrote to her. I have a journal full of entries of what I needed to say to her. That was the best therapy I could've ever had. While I miss her every.single.day, I've healed. I don't spend the entire day engulfed in grief anymore. I spend it remembering her and cherishing the time I had with her. I thank God for the wonderful mom he brought into her daughter's life. I believe if Terri could've hand picked her stand in, she would've picked her.
So let this be a reminder that tomorrow is never guaranteed. Let the ones you love know it. Live every day to it's fullest. And cherish every second that you have. Part of me feels guilty, but I know that Terri wouldn't want any of us to spend the day being sad. Rather than cry for my loss, I laughed and made new memories with some of my best friends. I love and miss you every day. Your memory will live on through me and everyone else that you touched.
I know this post is bound to make some of you cry and for that I'm sorry. That was not my intention, except that it means that through these words, I've touched your heart. If you're new to my blog, please follow me through GFC, Facebook, or Twitter. Also, take a second to click the banner below to help me in my rankings at topmommyblogs.com. Happy Monday.