Five Years On

Dear Keren,

I remember a night like this, five years ago.

The night where words and groans were not enough to express anguish.
The night where the need to call a friend at two in the morning defined the crisis mode.
The night where acceptance of this new reality of life without your smile and laughter started to sink in.

It was the phonecall I didn't want to receive.
Five years on, and the events of that weekend linger still, fresh as ever.

They didn't tell me why they needed to get in touch with your brother.
Only that you were in an accident.
People don't die that easily from accidents. Right?


Then they asked if I wanted to go see you in the hospital.
Was there a need?
It can't be that bad, can it?


Then I saw you lying there with all those extra science keeping you alive.
Why didn't they do more for you?
They called themselves Christians, but they didn't believe in a miracle?


I wanted to touch you, but I was afraid I would completely suck the life out of you if I did.

And then that morning at church.
I knew it was a matter of time before I would get that phonecall.
"Her parents just got in. They're taking her off life-support."


And then that strange woman.
I hardly knew her, but she was forcing me to swallow yoghurt.
"You may not have an appetite, but you need food in your system, and you can slurp down yoghurt."


You forced me into accepting community so I could never walk alone again.

That strange woman, with her husband and three boys became family.
Your father gave me permission to keep memories of you alive through staying in touch.

The story of our friendship was so simple, yet so complicated to explain without drawing others into my story, and the life that has unfolded ever since that day five years ago.

Dear Keren, tonight I revisited Elizabethtown with new friends. New people who will help me navigate the pages of my story. Telling the stories of what made us friends and what made Elizabethtown important forced me to celebrate the little pieces of life that has unfolded in the last five years.

Dear Keren, they asked me to write to you. To continue to tell you the stories of all that I've seen and the people I've met. Funny, because if you recall, we were supposed to meet at 4pm on August 3 five years ago to trade what would have been the last stories on this side of your life. 4pm came and went on August 3, 2007 with you lying with way too much of science trying to keep you alive at the Methodist Hospital in Indianapolis.

Dear Keren, these days they keep asking me what I do. I keep wanting to tell them, I collect stories. It may not be a real job, but it's what I do. The stories didn't end on August 3, 2007. So I will keep writing. I will keep collecting stories and share them with you as we would have done on that very day five years ago.

Love,
Me