Crossing Paths

Gay left me a voicemail tonight with an urgent tone.
I knew it wasn't good.
She and I worked together at the drug treatment center with the parenting women.
She still works there.

My first client that I saw all the way through treatment, graduation, and into out-patient was found dead this morning.
We worked together for over a year and a half and I came to love her so much.
I am praying it wasn't drug-related.
I just don't think my heart can handle that.
Please be health-related.
Please, oh, please.

She was much older than myself and looked like she had a lot more life on her face than little me.
I was worried she would be disappointed that I was assigned as her mental health counselor.
I was younger.
A new intern.
What did I know about the her life? Or drugs for that matter?
Smoking pot a few times didn't constitute knowledge of the world of crank and 8-balls.
She gave me an education to say the least.

Our sessions ended up being some of my favorite experiences at that treatment center.
She always participated in the groups I taught.
She was totally engaged during our sessions and brought so much to the hour.

The age difference made no difference. 
Phew.

I remember after she had been there for a few months things started to change for her.
She told me it was the first time in her life that she could look in the mirror and really be proud of herself.
Love herself even - after all these years.
It was the first time in her life she thought she was beautiful.
Worth it.
Determined to give herself the life she wanted.
And I felt truly honored to be a witness to that experience with her.

I've been in and out of tears all night.
Tears for her kids.
Oh, her kids. {ache}
Tears for her friends.
There are many that love her.
Tears for the what-ifs.
Why didn't I call her recently?
Did she know how much I genuinely cared about her even though I hadn't called?
If I could go back I would've done more.

Coulda.
Woulda.
Shoulda.

And tears for myself.
I will miss her terribly.
She loved to be alive and had this loud, boisterous laugh that filled the room.
She was a good, good human.
Whose life ended much to early.

Damn you, Life.

**

Our lines cross so briefly with the allotted time we are given with each other.
A good reminder to appreciate the daily, present moments together before it slips away.
As guaranteed it always does.
One minute your 6 and the next you are sixty...