Things were weird in June. Some pretty big things happened, not happy things though. First off, Hannah had a horrible gallbladder attack. I've never seen her eyes roll back in her head like that before - it was actually pretty scary. So the family ushered her out the door and to the ER we went. This, in and of itself, was pretty upsetting for the Hannah, but shortly after that her grandfather, Hugh, went downhill. He passed on Monday June 25th. Her grandmother bought plane tickets for Hannah and I to come down for the funeral on that Friday. It all happened so fast!
The funeral was kind of amazing, filled with 1930's charm and home-cooking. Everyone was beautifully polite and gentle and supportive. At the grave site Hannah felt her grandfather's presence. A bugler played taps. A very handsome and somber member of the US Military knelt before Hannah's grandmother and presented her with the flag as a sign of respect to the years grandpa had served. It was all so beautiful and perfect. And sad. Click here to see the obituary.
While we were still in Kansas, my best friend from college called me to let me know something awful. Something that is still hitting me in a hard, weird way. Friend Erica passed away. I graduated from Mesa State College with Erica. I helped her flunk statistics because I always managed to seduce her to come with me to Johnny Carino's for Happy Hour Bellinis instead of attending class. I was in a one-act play with her where we got into a crazy food fight and had ketchup in our ears for days after the show. We used to take naps together between studies and play rehearsals and she used my boobs as pillows.
I went to Germany twice with her. At Camp Lachenwald, her camp counselor name was Eeek. Three 'e's. My name was Quetzal. I remember one time she called me to her tent in the middle of the night for spider relocation (so many spiders!) and I was Quetzal the Hero. And there was another time when we were both so homesick we slept together on a cot at camp. A small cot. But we made it work and neither of us fell off. One of my favorite memories of Germany: the first night we arrived there I drank the hotel bar dry of Gin and then Erica and I skinny dipped in the Main river with a Marine named Wu. The next day he sang to us, "I wish they all could be Colorado girls."
She was a sweet, sassy, crazy woman who liked things like Modest Mouse, Dashboard Confessional, luscious lipsticks, and shoes. Never did I know anyone who had quite so many shoes. But the things I think about with Erica are the little conversations we had. We said 'I know friends drift and I don't want us to drift apart' and we swore up and down we wouldn't. But we did. We drifted for a while until my college bff said I should add Erica to my super secret Facebook that only has (right at this moment) 21 friends. So I sent the invite and Erica accepted immediately. That was on June 12th. Eighteen days later my friend calls to tell me she's gone.
Nothing I could write here will really do her justice. She was surprising and wonderful and I have so many amazing memories because of her. I found her obituary online. It's too simple in my opinion. Erica's obituary should be like a Music Video from the early 90's. Fashionable girl in amazing shoes follows David Bowie into a painting and proceeds to dance through a variety of artistic renaissances until she ends up drunk on Bellinis and napping on my boobs again.
I went to Germany twice with her. At Camp Lachenwald, her camp counselor name was Eeek. Three 'e's. My name was Quetzal. I remember one time she called me to her tent in the middle of the night for spider relocation (so many spiders!) and I was Quetzal the Hero. And there was another time when we were both so homesick we slept together on a cot at camp. A small cot. But we made it work and neither of us fell off. One of my favorite memories of Germany: the first night we arrived there I drank the hotel bar dry of Gin and then Erica and I skinny dipped in the Main river with a Marine named Wu. The next day he sang to us, "I wish they all could be Colorado girls."
She was a sweet, sassy, crazy woman who liked things like Modest Mouse, Dashboard Confessional, luscious lipsticks, and shoes. Never did I know anyone who had quite so many shoes. But the things I think about with Erica are the little conversations we had. We said 'I know friends drift and I don't want us to drift apart' and we swore up and down we wouldn't. But we did. We drifted for a while until my college bff said I should add Erica to my super secret Facebook that only has (right at this moment) 21 friends. So I sent the invite and Erica accepted immediately. That was on June 12th. Eighteen days later my friend calls to tell me she's gone.
Nothing I could write here will really do her justice. She was surprising and wonderful and I have so many amazing memories because of her. I found her obituary online. It's too simple in my opinion. Erica's obituary should be like a Music Video from the early 90's. Fashionable girl in amazing shoes follows David Bowie into a painting and proceeds to dance through a variety of artistic renaissances until she ends up drunk on Bellinis and napping on my boobs again.
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