I dropped the wand in the sink and sat on the edge of the tub. “That can’t be right,” I thought. I just saw her. She was fine, she was happy. I finished getting ready and headed out the door to walk to my job about a mile away. On my walk I thought about what I had heard on the radio. She had died of a heroin overdose. I had a hard time understanding why someone with so much going for her now would use heroin. Making it through that day was difficult. Her death hit me hard. She was young, young people are not suppose to die.
On an afternoon a few days after her death the Comet closed and held a celebration of life for her. The bar was full of people mourning the loss of a talented woman who died too soon. Everyone was hit hard by her death. For a long time after that I always expected her to come and clear off glasses at my table, put the pool cues away or nag people for their ID. She never came back. Death is final and hard to comprehend.
Sometime shortly after her death I was walking to the grocery store on Capitol Hill when I ran into my friend Robert. After saying hello he became unusually serious and told me he was glad he ran into me. He was concerned about my best friend Gina.
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