C'est la Vie. Or Asi Es la Muerte.

I wish I had sometime more beautiful to write. I had a weird dream last night that inspired some poetry, but I can't find the words. I come in here and I try to think of reasons to smile and believe all is happy peppy and right. I come in here, and instead I find that three people have died this year. In four months, I've gone through three losses, and I wish I wish I wish it wasn't true on any counts.

The first death was in May. A sweet, beautiful girl from church. She was younger than me, and I watched her grow up. She died in a tragic car accident. Her death was shocking. I didn't know her enough to say I suffered, but I knew those who loved her. Some of those girls were my best friends growing up. I knew her family, and I loved her sisters. I couldn't, can't imagine their pain. I just remember feeling numb and shocked, and sad for a few days. When I think of her, I still do. It stills feels, and sounds, and seems weird that she isn't parading her beauty and smiles with her friends and family.

Then came July. My grandmother passed. I didn't see it coming. I knew she was sick, but I honestly thought she'd get better like she did last time. I prayed so hard for her. I thought, I mean I really though she'd still be OK. I thought I'd get to see her in August. Maybe get a chance to say bye. Then my dad called, he said, "the Dr.'s say there's nothing they can do for her anymore." I broke. I'm still broken for so many reasons. She would cry when I would pray for her, and she would hold me and tell me to pray on her behalf because I was closer to God. She always always asked for me, about me, sent me her love. Once when she was really sick she saw me praying by her bedside (I was in Ohio). I don't know how she got better, but she did. The last time I spoke to her, she told me this story with so much conviction; her voice was breaking holding back tears. I thought it was weird in way, but what I wouldn't have given to have her seen me again and gotten better. I still have no words. Her death is still too fresh to process, to accept, to believe.

Now its September, and two days ago my friend died. I have so many regrets. I wish I would have talked to her more in the last few years, or dropped her a line. I wish I would have told her what she meant to me, what I thought about her. I wish, I wish and now its too late. I still can't believe she's gone. I can't. I feel for her family and loved ones. A silly brain tumor that came out of nowhere took her life. She was too young, too beautiful, too smart. This shouldn't be happening to her. It just shouldn't.

And I here I am trying to arrange my thoughts in a way that makes sense. This last year was hard enough. I've had to endure three deaths alone and away from family and friends (with the exception of flying out to L.A. for my grandma, although I wish I would have been there to say good bye!). I don't feel sadness, I don't feel much at all right now actually. I've cried and cried. I've woken up now and thought "Oh right, Rosalie died," and I can't understand it. I look over my desk and remember, "Grandma is gone too." I think of the unfairness of death, and why it takes such beautiful people and think, "Zenia was taken too soon."

My body, my mind, and heart all feel too numb and raw at the same time. I don't what to make of everything, and I don't know how long it will take for me to have the words to let it out. For now, this is all I have. C'est la vie. C'est la muerte.

-Noemi