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Published: January 10th 2006
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Hello Reader.
After a week, I have finally mustered up the courage and clarity that it will take to write this entry.
One of my best friends, Jennifer Becker, wrote me last week. She said that she had something she wanted to tell me over the phone. I tried to call her on several occasions and never got through. She finally decided to write me an e-mail.
Jenna Johnson, one of Jenny's roommates and best friends throughout college, died just before Christmas. She had moved to California and was training with a friend to run the AIDS marathon. After feeling a little dizzy, Jenna simply collapsed to the ground. They did an autopsy and could find no reason for it. She was twenty-three years old.
After reading the e-mail, I read it again. After reading the words 'Jenna died,' my eyes wouldn't soak up anything else in the letter. I sat staring blankly at the screen for a good ten minutes before my mind spat out two questions. First, does Jenny need me to be there with her? and the second was why?
I had not spent more than two or three weeks total with Jenna,
but I have been close to Jenny since we were eight years old. We share one of those friendships that will last. Even if we lose touch for twenty years, a hug is all it would take to get back to best. So my first concern for her well being was natural, almost instinctive.
As for my second question, I have always believed that for every action, there is a cause. But no matter how hard I try, I just can't wrap my head around the fact that there was absolutely no cause for Jenna's death. She was an athlete. Healthy, as far as I know. I think that's what scares me so much.
...I hadn't thought about it before just now, but I guess her death
does scare me.
How can a person be walking around healthy, happy, living - and in an instant, simply stop. I think inside I feel that I should be angry with someone or something, like a drunk driver or a disease, but there was no drunk driver and there was no disease. So then where does my anger go when there's nothing and no one to be angry at? It
subsides and I am left with sorrow. Hearing about Jenna's death made me feel the saddest I think I've felt since I came to Europe. Even as I write this, there's a knot in my throat and my fingers shake a little.
Jenny said she knows that Jenna is in a better place. Jenny says that now, even more than before, she realizes that each day is a gift. Now, Jenny and I don't share the same faith, but I know what she means about each day being a gift. I think about all the things she didn't get a chance to say or do. I feel so frustrated that I can't go back in time and tell her not to waste her time with hate and regret, or worrying about missing that new CSI episode, or the price of gas. I wish I could tell her to eat that entire pint of Ben & Jerry's, to smile at strangers, to tell her friends and family how much she cares about them, to take a deep breath and release whatever she had been holding on to inside.
I wish I could tell her stargaze.
My mom always said that in even the worst situation, there is always some good to be found, even if it's hard to see at first. (I think at the time she used Nancy Kerrigan getting a contract with Disney after having her knee bashed in, but the point is still a valid one.) I think I found the silver lining.
With her death, Jenna has done for Jenny and me what I wish I could have done for her. Her death served as a reminder that, while some cancer patients can live into their nineties, not even the healthiest of people are assured the luxury of a long life. I will try to remember just how lucky I am and the impermanence of everything and everyone. I will be more appreciative of the people I meet and the good times I have. I will regard each moment as precious. I will tell the people I care about just how important they are to me. And you bet your ass I'm going to finish that pint of Ben & Jerry's.
So this is my thanks to Jenna...
...see you in the stars.
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Jenny
non-member comment
Thanks
Babe, thanks so much. Your words meant a lot to me. I am doing okay, actually I'm really relying on my faith for this one. I'll have to explain more in person, but you are right when you say that her death taught me (and you) so much. Not only that life is a gift, but that everything we do is forgotten... our jobs, our "stuff", even our bodies, in time...after we die. But the one thing people remember and are changed by...is the way that we show love. That is the way people are impacted by you and changed, and everything else just fades away. I love you sweetie and please don't worry too much about me. I am doing good. I promise! I can't wait to talk to you in person sometime soon. Love-Jen