Rest...

I was on my way to have dinner with a friend of mine last night when cuzzo called. She normally texts me so my antennae were slightly raised from the jump.

"Cuzzo.....what up?"

She greeted me in a tone much more contained than I'm used to, letting me know there'd be bad news before she ever actually said the words. I wanted to know how bad it was gonna be though I could tell already that someone had died. She said if we had been close, it would be bad-bad, but if we weren't then....eh. Why was she being cagey? She'd know if we had been or not. After a couple of awkward minutes - and me spinning around in circles after somehow getting turned around in a sea of Times Square tourists - she told me she didn't want to ruin my dinner and said to just call her afterwards.

I wasn't checking for another death by the time I got home - too tired, slightly buzzed and just happy to finally be home to wrap up what has been a pretty taxing week.

Social media yielded no clues when I got up this morning, so I went ahead and texted cuzzo to see what had happened. She told me that it hadn't really been put out there yet but a girl we grew up with had passed away from cancer yesterday. She knew damn well I wasn't close with the girl. She was well aware we had fallen out back in high school and had never spoken again. But while it wasn't immediate, I would eventually come to understand why cuzzo felt compelled to let me know.

"I started writing as a kid, keeping a diary about a boy I liked."

Looking at my thumbnail picture here, I hear the echo of those words in my head. She was the girl between me and that boy I liked. And I was the girl between them.

A juvenile love triangle has many a pubescent friendship ended, but she and I were never really friends. Frienemies, for sure. Tall, pretty, brown-skinned girls who both played sports and had the neighborhood boys split for attention, we were often compared. She thought she was above me though, so she hated it. Add guy and stir. Take the head cheerleader, captain of the football team and the intriguing new girl from any "been done" teen movie there's ever been and we all know how it ends.

I really didn't see her much after high school. I can recall seeing her 2 or 3 times at the club in my early 30's, but we didn't speak. There was one occasion I almost felt like we would - like we both wanted to just bury the hatchet - but it didn't happen. I don't feel any way about it. I mean, it seemed clear neither of us was harboring any energy still, but the fact of the matter was we didn't exist in each other's worlds and there was no version of this story where that would change just because we said hello to each other in the ladies room.

But hearing of her death - from cancer, no less - did hit me strangely. Not in an emotional way, but in a manner similar to how Kobe Bryant's death [initially] hit me. It was.... shock. There's just some people you never imagine dying, even if they're virtual strangers. You may never hear anything about them ever again, but you don't expect to hear they've died. At 43. From cancer. Someone who, for better or worse, was an integral part of the most impactful time of your young life. Those deaths hit harder, no matter how far removed you are, because all the players in your sacred sagas somehow belong to you.

Regardless of what, I'm sorry she had to die this way. I'm sorry her family had to lose her in this way. I'm sorry our story had to be written such that the only respectful way to pay my respects is from here.

Girl I grew up with, rest.