…8 years ago today I sat in a crappy apartment, in a crappy city, in a crappy relationship. My relationship of five years was coming to an end (it was long coming) but it was five days before my 22nd birthday and although I knew it was over, there was some part of my naive 22 year old heart that was hoping for something (anything) to give, I mean come on…it was my birthday!

As I started my day and got ready for work I got a phone call that stopped me still in my tracks, it was my mum, and her words were telling me that my godmother was dead.

Died. Dead. Passed away.

– Silence –

Excuse me?

I’m so sorry baby.

-Sobs-

And there it was my 41 year old godmother (holder of so many years of my life, my secrets and my childhood was gone) just like that! No goodbye, no hugs, no kisses, no no no no. It couldn’t be, how could she be dead. It wasn’t the first time (unfortunately) my family & I were hit with such young death in our family but that didn’t mean it was going to be any easier.

I hung up the phone and started packing, feeling anxiously aware that I needed to leave, leave my boyfriends crappy apartment and never ever ever come back. I packed and cried and sobbed and talked to her. I called my job and told them I was done, I had to go it was time to leave, leave this crappy apartment, in this crappy city, in this crappy relationship but as I said the words my eyes stung with tears because I knew that even when I did leave it didn’t change one damn thing, my godmother was dead.

I spent my 22nd birthday at her wake and funeral. It was horrific to know that while I was being born 22 years ago (probably one of the happiest days of her and my families life) she was now being buried (one of the worst days of mine and her families lives) as I sat at the viewing I looked around in a tear-stricken haze at my family, her family, her kids. Her kids. It wasn’t fair, life was and never would be fair and there wasn’t a damn thing anyone could do about it.

My godmother and I weren’t talking when she died. We hadn’t talked in quite some time. It’s not important why we weren’t talking, what is important is to remember how we thought it was okay that we weren’t talking. We made excuses (so many excuses) life happens, people get fucked up, people change, things change, we change, people lie and cheat and you think that being mad at them and holding grudges against them will eventually blow over and things will be okay. Or even worse you think that never talking again, never forgiving them again will some how be okay. We forget (we always forget) that while all of this is happening death can happen…at any time without warning. You think you have TIME. You think it will all be okay. You think, you think, you think.

I think everyday. Everyday about so much..life, love, forgiveness, loss, sadness. That’s life. That’s part of my life. This is part of my life, everyday. But I live and the more I live and the more I give the more I learn. I’ve learned that I refuse to live my life with regret so instead I live with lessons learned and just like all lessons in life some are much much harder than others.

I miss my godmother. I miss her so often. I miss knowing that I can call her (even if we hadn’t talked in a long time) I miss knowing that she was there. I miss knowing her, hearing her voice, her laugh. I miss her craziness. I miss, well, I just miss her.

It’s 8 years later and I still miss her. I will always miss her. In life and in death she has taught me so much. She has taught me that nobody is perfect, that unconditional love and forgiveness will prove to be one of our hardest but most important struggles, that memories with family and those you love will be your most valuable possession and that no matter what you do there will always be loss (but there doesn’t always have to be regret).

I feel you in the breeze at the beach, I smell you in my tanning lotion on hot days, I listen to your voice on my wildest of nights, I secretly cheer for the Miami Dolphins every single time they play and I giggle every time I see a girl with long fake nails.

I’m turning 30 in 4 days and I wish you could call me and wish me a happy birthday (like you did for so many years) I wish that my birthday didn’t remind me of your loss. I wish…

Until we meet again….

Me and my godmother in July 1986 after my 2nd birthday feeding the ducks in the park