Friends

I'm not a great friend.  I try to blame our nomadic Air Force existence, but I certainly could do better in keeping track of friends and keeping in contact.  These pics show four of my greatest friends from my teens and early 20's, Heidi, Meagan, me, Jessi, Carin (l-r) on June 21, 1995.

Meagan passed away last month in her sleep at the age of 39.

39.

I was lucky to have time with Carin after the funeral to reminisce and laugh and be grateful, because I am grateful for all my friends, no matter how remiss I am in expressing it to them.  I'm especially grateful to Ben for supporting me in making the crazy trip to Utah to attend the funeral.  Without him, my awesome neighbors who picked up kids, and Deanna holding down the fort there's no way I could have gone.

I met Meagan when I was 12, attending Girls Camp with the Modesto North Stake in the high Sierras.  The only other person there I knew was Carin (bless you, Nina) and I can't remember if Meagan was in our cabin group or in our little pod of yearlings, but I learned quickly that she was full of energy and laughs.  Dynamic would be a good word to describe her.  Maybe mercurial?  Possibly even a little manic, that week.  In any case, Meagan had a little. . . ritual?  of greeting where she would swoop the greetee down into a dip and kiss them, only with her hand interposed between lips so as to not actually kiss.  It's hard to describe, but was the cause of much hilarity among us pre-teens who were determined to have a good time, even at a church camp.  I suppose she liked doing it to me since I am so easily embarrassed and blush quite dramatically.

In any case, one night as the sun was setting in that weird twilight dusk, my mom showed up to collect me early.  My Grandma Slade had passed away that week and our family was leaving the next morning for the funeral in Colorado.  I was a little in shock trying to figure out what I needed to do to pack and get gone; I'm sure my mom was running on fumes after trying to get everything necessary done back in Modesto (remember, we'd just moved in that week!) for a long road trip and also find the time for the 3 hour drive to fetch me home from camp.  So, into this scene imagine my friend Meagan running up to me and swooping me over in a kiss of greeting.   And then issuing an equally extravagant apology when she found out why my mom was there.  It's my first real memory of her and one of my favorites, so overly dramatic and just so . . . her.

Meagan was also my first friend at Prescott Senior Elementary later that autumn, and she introduced this introverted loner to friends who helped me survive that 8th grade year.  We certainly had our spats, as opinionated people will, but my overwhelming memory of her is of her laughter, and of us laughing together.

Laughter. . . not a bad legacy to leave!