It has been exactly one month.
It is the first day of school and I find myself searching for your face on campus, where your glasses and smile should be. However, I find only T-shirts and bracelets memorializing you. Both of which I know you would have loved. They will never capture your energy. My professors are intimidating and I want nothing more than to drive all the way to Dutch Bros with you so we can drink cheap coffee and laugh about the year to come.
Sadly, the most I can do is write, think, and pray about it.
On August 21st, I read about your accident on a Facebook status. I remember thinking it was an awful joke and even today, I find myself wondering if it is.
On August 21st, God gained a beautiful, fiery angel for reasons I have yet to comprehend. I know that everything happens for a reason, but I have been struggling to understand this one.
The first time I met you was when we went shopping for ugly clothes at Value Village. My car would not start, but you were patient and even laughed with me about it. I remember thinking how fun you were and how I wanted to be closer with you. I noticed your tattoo and instantly I knew we would be friends. Your blue circle tattoo fascinated me and I told you that I was type 1 diabetic too. We instantly bonded over little things like high blood sugars and annoying doctors. I knew by the end of that day that we were brought together for a reason. You were the first friend I had who truly understood the struggles that comes with juvenile diabetes and your attitude about it inspired me to take a new approach to our disease.
Then, I had the privilege of living with you. Living in the chapter house with you is something I would not trade for the world. Whether it be sitting on the porch and doing homework or stumbling home from a fraternity, you were always there with me to share those fleeting, carefree moments. Those once insignificant nights now resonate with me a little more every day as I begin to realize that there will be no further opportunities for us to laugh together as roommates, friends, and sorority sisters.
I am not writing this article to lament or grieve—no, I know you are watching me write this and you are probably laughing at me for being so emotional. I chose to write about you to keep the conversation going. Time goes on and wounds heal, but your legacy lives on eternally. From your carefree laugh to your heart that was always so full of love, every day I try to incorporate part of your personality into mine. Because of you, I smile a little bigger and laugh a little harder, because tomorrow is never a guarantee. Your passing is not in vain—you serve as a reminder to always wear your seat-belt, to learn to laugh at yourself, and to love with your whole heart.
The last 30 days have been incredibly short yet excruciatingly long all at once. I take comfort in knowing that you are probably listening to country music and making tons of friends in heaven. The memories we share will stay with me for the rest of my life. I cannot express how grateful I am to have known you during your short lifetime.
I love you lots, Stacia, and I cannot wait to see you again on the other side of the stars.
