For those of you stumbling onto my blog, please scroll down a few posts, back to this April, and read the posts there. It will help you understand this post.

 Tonight, my dad and I got talking about one of his brothers, Galand, who died about 20+ years ago. My dad made some kind of comment about how he died too young, much like my friend, Olivia. That lead to he and I talking about her. I still can't speak of her, without people who knew her very well near by, without crying a little. I miss her terriably. After he walked out of my room, I had myself a small little cry and was starting to feel better- if bittersweet, when he came back in. And he insisted on talking about her more- which only made it worse for me and hurt so much worse. I know he only meant well, but now I can't stop thinking of her. WHen this happens, I ususally am up til about 5 with insomnia. My mind won't shut down, or quit going in circles. So, I gave up a pretense at sleeping and decided to blog.

How do I tell you what I'm feeling? How can I put that kind of inescapable hurt into words? If I were Homer, or Lord Tennyson, or Mia Angelou, I'm sure I could find a suitably dark and hauntingly beautiful poem somewhere in the back of my mind, under the hurt. But, I'm none of those and a lousy poet to boot. So, I'll settle with a "If I could do it over again" situation.

When it came the Saturday they were holding her memorial on, I was in peices. But, I got a call from friends saying that Lisa, Olivia's mother, wanted us to write something for the euology. A little elegy written by friends, to be read by the preacher. I'm not sure how or why, but at 11 AM, they elected me to write something for everyone, or I volenteered, I don't remember. So, at noon with the wake to begin at 3:30 and the memorial at 4:30, I sat down to pour all my heartache and love for Olivia into an elegy, in prose form. I couldn't be too wordy and ramble on, nor did I want to be too concise and deny a part of her. And I wanted to remember her as she lived when I knew her: happy and bright.  After 45 minutes of struggling, I found a sitable compostion that I felt summed up everything I loved about her and somehow captured the unimaginable tragedy of her death. I have since deleted the file from my computer, as I was becoming obcessed with reading it and I don't recall it exactly. However, it used an extended metaphor of a performance stage and its bright lights for her life, but it was also personal and captured her in all her sweet, funny, splendor. It was sweet and made me cry, because it was so true. I composed what is probably one of the best works I will probably ever write in about 25 minutes of actual write time. I wanted to read it before everyone in the little ceramony they had planned. But, when I gave the finished paper to Lisa, she thanked me and said the preacher would read it. I didn't say a word different, because I as hurting so much.

But, if I had read it, this is what would have happened (in my head, anyway).  The preacher would have introduced me, and I'd have walked up there and introduced myself like this. "For those who do not know me, I'm Nicole and have known Olivia since I was 7. I wrote this, from all of her (small smile here) old school friends." .. Then the elegy I wrote, followed by a pause then, "On a personal side note, I know Olivia is laughing at us somewhere, for all our silly tears. Shes happy now, and we should try to be happy with that- Laugh for her, even as we have tears on our cheeks for missing her."  Something like that, anyway. Thats how it would have gone in my head...

God, I miss her so much.

For the life of me, it still doesn't seem like shes actually dead. It still feels like I could call her up and have a good laugh at me foolishly thinking that she was anything other than perfectly healthy.

What else can I say? I can't sleep because I'm thinking of her. I won't sleep til at least 4 or 5. In the morning, I'll be exhusted and unable to function properly. Its a sad, vicious cycle that I'll break in a few days, once I get my sleep schedule back on track. But till then, Olivia may have been the saddest little girl in the whole world, but I'm the second saddest.

... thanks for listening to me rattle on. Theres more doubts and uncertiaties ratteling around in my head, but none that need to be aired here. Just silly little boy troulbles and hopes. Blah. If you want that crap, go read any LiveJournal. Oh well. Till later. <3.