She washed up last week, stateside. I don't want to know who found her. I don't want to know who saw her jump.

I think about her wide, bright smile and pink cheeks, and I feel angry. She took that away from us. She had no right.

That smile is gone now; so is her blonde hair, and her blue eyes. She threw them away like they were worth nothing at all. She was so wrong in those last moments.

The sun still shone today, even though it looked down at her coffin. The wind blew gently through us as we stood around what was left of her. It's hard, standing in front of a box holding the battered body of a friend you haven't yet forgiven. It's hard to see a mother's tears, and a sister with the same crooked front teeth.

We planted a tree for her, an evergreen. It spirals up towards the sky, reaching for the sun. Reaching for hope, and maybe something beyond even that. She spiraled down, but never let anyone see. I think hope is worth seeing.

I don't think I'll ever get use to her being gone. It will always feel like someone is missing. But we must all plunge ahead anyways, into uncertain waters. The waters will be choppy sometimes, and it's during those times that you have to bow your head and hold on tight. Maybe no one ever taught her how.

I guess what I've learned from this is that you can't change the past; you can only stride towards the future. I can't go back and save her, but I can take care of those left behind. I can teach them how to hold on tight.

Although I can't change the past, I will never forget it. All our memories remain with me, and they will never leave me. She's here, in every gap toothed smile and bookworm I'll ever see. She will be my friend forever, even though she'll never grow up to see me get married, or pull another prank on me, or tell me how stubborn I am. Despite the pain she has caused me, I'm glad that I knew her. Knowing her was a privilege. It was worth every moment.

Rebekah, I miss you.

6/30/2010 5:29 PM