well this sucks.

to another best friend--this is all for you.

"no my faith's not gone; it's just a different kind" -Bryan Fenkart, My Prayer

it was just a few weeks earlier than this time last year that we drove to see you in Delaware for Christmas Skipfest. here we are again, trying the get ahead of the same damn snow that chased us there a year ago. remember? we were snowed inside, watching Beer League (again) and i was mortified that i wasn't mortified about the fact that we were watching Jersey Shore. a bunch of (drunk) roid raged guidos with cut abs and (drunk) too-tan guidettes with inexplicably cut shirts using a mallard phone after drinking way too much Jaeger and either being or calling people sluts? going to college in Jersey can only give you a sense of humor for it.

there was a lot of laughter at those idiots. there was always a lot of laughter at Skipfests. laughter. beer. sports. calling C-list celebrities. absurd bets on how long until Seton Hall basketball loses momentum for another inevitable loss in a game that they could've/should've won. lather. rinse. repeat.

this time was bound to be different. same group of people. same snow. same awful basketball team. well, different players, same amount of awful. we arrived at your house, beer open by 11 a.m. and not long after did touch football follow. same routine, but it was palpable that we were down a Skip member. obviously we weren't going to sit around and cry about it as a group--for like a hundred reasons. 1) it's the last thing she would want. in fact she might come back just to smack us. 2) that's never been your style. 3) you can't make fun of me for emoting in this very blog if you are also emoting and 4) honestly, what the hell are we going to say?

our group has never been one for formalities. "formal" and "polite" caring is sugarcoating a situation that we all know heartwrenchingly blows. we aren't ones to hide. we don't spew trite "sorry for your loss" and "she's in a better place" phrases, even though both of those things may be true. you wouldn't remember at this point anyway if we did. we always call things what they are, which in this case is damn sad, and the best we can do is be there for you, regardless of what that entails. anything else, though prettier, on some level feels like a lie--at least to you. you never wade in comfort to bob above honesty. we just saw this with our own mutual best friend about a month earlier, in the same pain you're in now. it doesn't matter if it was expected or not, or when it was or how. the same mind boggling pain will rattle--but it will shake out.

i've never seen you be anything but strong and quite frankly the thought of you being less than that was something i couldn't even picture and sure as hell didn't want to entertain. then again i never had to until now. i knew you wouldn't completely fall apart reading the Eulogy. the weird thing is that sometimes the best way to be strong is allowing yourself to fall apart; letting your hard shell of strength crack a little. the brave option is to break down--you can't mend that which you don't recognize as broken. watching you pass this cruel life test of grace with ease was an odd combination of heartbreak and pride. exhibiting strength with realization of where you were forced to stand is an easy scale to tip out of balance, but watching you power through with integrity is just further evidence of what an amazing woman she was.

as you move forward, i know you can't avoid the absence, but i know you won't let the spirit fade. she will always be there. just like beer, football, and the ever flailing pirates.

-k.