I woke up the next day as if it had been a dream. At least I wanted it to have been a dream so badly. She couldn’t possibly be dead.
I remember the tears welling up in my eyes as I realized I would never see my friend again. My eyes were still red, puffy and aching from a day of crying, and yet the tears persisted; it was uncontrollable – oddly, like death itself.
That’s the one thing I don’t understand about life is that it is the most precious thing in the world and yet it is the most fragile thing as well.
I don’t deal with death well. I never have and am not sure if I ever will. This was the first close friend I’ve lost and I think that’s why it was so incredibly difficult for me. But I’ve been told everything happens for a reason, and I’m trying to believe it.
November 24 is fast approaching. It will be the one year anniversary of her death. I never understood that phrase in context to tragedy. Anniversaries are supposed to be for happy occasions.
But as I think more about it I realize I do have something to celebrate. I can celebrate the fact that Jenny was such a good friend for the time I knew her. With Thanksgiving less than a week later, I knew I at least had that to be thankful for.
The events of that morning played over and over in my head for days and weeks to come, and I still can’t help but recall it. I woke up around 9:20 a.m. to a phone call from my best friend. Her words still linger in my mind, clear as if it happened yesterday.
“I have some bad news,” she said. My heart stopped and my mind raced with possibilities of what could have happened before she spoke again. “There was an accident and Jenny is dead.”
As I understand it, she was on a bus on her way to church near her hometown in Germany when a tire blew and the vehicle flipped.
Afterward, I was in disbelief that the conversation had actually taken place. I continued to doubt myself, thinking I was possibly mistaken.
It takes a minute for someone to react in moments like this and realize what has happened. To some extent I’m still in that moment because there are times when I think about her and want to talk to her, or I’ll wonder how she is and then it hits me. Pictures on the wall have the same effect.
It’s not that I forget, although sometimes I wish I could. Eventually I pull myself back to reality and continue moving on. It’s been hard, but I’m getting there.
I wanted to go home as quickly as I could that Sunday. But with only two days left of school until Thanksgiving break, my mom advised against it, besides I was probably too upset at that point, and did not want to get in a car.
All I wanted to do, though, was get home and talk to my friends just be with them and talk about it.We did get together the night I got home. Ironically, we still haven’t talked about it to this day, at least not much. It must be a little too hard.
I think that’s why I feel the need to talk about it now. There are still things left unsaid and questions left unanswered.
The next day would have been her birthday. She would have been turning 22 this year. A young, kind, gentle soul taken too early.
Memories of my friend Jenny are always with me, and they no longer just make me sad and miss her, the thought of her now makes me smile.
Chrissy Zehrbach, a junior journalism major, is sports editor for the Campus Times. She can be reached by e-mail at sqweet@aol.com.
