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March 10, 2003Ode to Amy
Rather dark weekend for me. Upon leaving the office I called an old high school buddy of mine, SE, who I have recently got back in touch with as plans for getting our reunion together have commenced. He had left me a message the day before while I was at home sick, that sounded peculiarly depressed, frustrated, etc. Said he needed to talk to me on the phone. He informed me that a good friend of ours had passed away that Tuesday. He had just found out on Thursday when his wife called him at the office. Amy was one of those rare and special people in high school. I had spent most of junior high and high school sharing at least three classes with her every semester. We were in the advanced placement classes and the ‘TAG’ (talented and gifted) seminar classes together. She was also exceedingly beautiful—in appearance and heart. I’ll always remember when I first noticed her in elementary school at a confrence of four elementary school talented and gift programs. Her tallness, graceful walk, her deep shining blue eyes, her light brown hair, and her warm and easy smile struck me. She sat behind me in the advanced biology class in the seventh grade. She was not from a family of great means. Her single mother was and is a waitress at a nice little restaurant in our hometown. For extra money, she drove the school bus for SE’s and my neighborhood. Her mother was beautiful as well. Amy would often ride our bus in the afternoons and then go home with her mother. Amy had that special gift of being able to be smarter than most, more beautiful than most, on the school’s A-list for popularity, and friendly to all in her vicinity. It’s always hard to reconcile the brains with the popularity, but Amy did. She was first runner-up for our high school beauty pageant. Throughout our years in school together, I always harbored a secret crush for her. She had everything going for her and seemed like the world in the palm of her hands, even if she did not have family money to back her up. Graduation came and within a few months, I had left for Army basic training and advanced individual training. Through prior arrangement with my university, they would hold my scholarship until I returned in late December and enrolled in the spring semester. I immediately lost track with most of my high school friends except for a handful who opted for the same university and a few who kept up with me despite the distance. I never saw Amy again. I had heard through the grapevine that she had gone through a rough spot in life—drug abuse, but was now clean, a baby boy (now three years old) with a father who signed away all custodial rights and neglected any involvement with her or their son, a few live-in boyfriends. She worked with her mother at the same hometown restaurant and tried to make as many ends meet as possible. It saddened me when I heard these items. It had also been rumored that her current boyfriend, a good guy by most accounts had put a down payment down on an engagement ring and planned on asking her to marry him. I don’t know if she ever knew this or not. I resolved that at some point in the next few months of the reunion planning process I would look her up and take her for dinner or coffee to catch up and maybe, just maybe, be of some kind of help. On Tuesday, she was at home with her three-year-old son. The potential fiancée had called and noting that she did not sound good at all, phoned her mother and asked that she go over to Amy’s house and check up on her. In not too long, her mother was at Amy’s house knocking on the door. Amy’s three-year-old son answered the door. Amy’s mother found her.
The funeral was Sunday, and I was still in my sick bed. I feel horrible in body and in soul. I am only grateful that my last memories of Amy are of our class proudly accepting diplomas. She with a bright and brilliant look in her eyes of a future of opportunity. Godspeed Amy—I will remember the best of you always. Posted by Adam H at March 10, 2003 09:31 AM ~ Link Cosmos | Trackbacks (0)Comments
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