I was just writing on Rita’s wall on Facebook to tell her I miss her and stuff (it feels good to do that, even though I do talk to her anyway. It’s the first time since she died that I’ve written on her wall). (And no, talking to her does not make me crazy).
Anyway, as I was writing, it all sort of hit me again, and I almost started crying, because I realized the orchestra concert is tomorrow. A concert she should be playing in, but cannot. I know she’ll be watching though.
I had almost decided against going tomorrow, but then changed my mind, all because of that little thing: writing on her Facebook wall. Which seems stupid if you’re a mean person who doesn’t know what it’s like to lose a friend. I feel like I just NEED to be there tomorrow at the concert, so hopefully, I can be. And I’ll
probably cry, but that just kind of happens.
I miss her. Sometimes, it hits hard how much I miss her. Because if she was here, I’d be telling her these stories from my life, and she’d probably be laughing at how funny some of them are. She’d be excited for me because of Sean, and would probably want to meet him. We’d be section leaders together, two senior ladies leading high brass. But she’s not here, so none of that is happening.
When it starts to feel more rough though, I think about how lucky I am to have known and been friends with her. How God really must have pushed me to take a picture of the two of us on the day of the last marching band competition, the one that got snowed out. It’s the only picture of us, and it’s my profile picture on Facebook (we were friends and we talked, but we weren’t THAT close. We weren’t best friends or anything, although she made everyone who talked to her feel like they were). Anyway, I know now that I took that for a reason.
I let the sharpie of her name that was on my wrist wash off a couple weeks ago, but I’m still wearing the RIP RITA bracelet my lovely friend Katy made. That’s not coming off any time soon. And I know she’s with me, even now.
Plus, and call me crazy but I swear to you it’s true, when I’m playing trumpet and I’m running out of breath or my lips are getting shot and I don’t think I can play a high note, all of a sudden, it feels like I still have a ton of air, and my lips are fine. I know it’s her, playing with me. It makes me smile and brings tears to my eyes, because I swear to you, it’s her. And you might not believe in God or angels, but I do.
I have a beautiful guardian angel named Rita.