It Always catches You Out

 You've been gone ten years now, but it feels like yesterday. 

And yesterday, as I was out with the Dream Group girls, I remembered that I didn't go the year you passed because I was a bit of a mess a I couldn't face people. I don't think I made it for a few years after than as I associated Dream Group Christmas Catch Up with you leaving the Earth. 

The psyche is funny like that. 

I remember not crying, probably because I got that done before you went. You had nine months of angst, and sickness and pain. Your passing meant that was over for you. Not for those who were left behind. 

It hurts to think of where you might be now if leukaemia had never come your way. To think of what you might be doing, or where you were working. Would you be travelling? Or studying? Would you have a partner? So many ponderings which feel so pointless. 

It still hurts that you're not here. 

It hurts that you'd be turning 26 this weekend.

But we have our memories.

We liked some of the same counterculture stuff. You loved What We Do in the Shadows. You would have loved Wellington Paranormal. 

And okay, I never got your love of K-Pop, but the whole Korean culture had you in its clutches. You'd never understand my love of Talking Heads and The Pixies. 

And one of my favourite memories is singing that daft train safety add at the Christmas table last year. Your grandmother was perplexed. How could we both know this silly ditty about dumb ways to die?

Thinking about it, leukaemia is a dumb way to die. You fought it with all your might. That was courageous. 

Oh, and the blood bank lets me give blood and plasma now. Every time I donate a pint, your name and memory come up. 

Please know you're very missed and very much remembered. 

Love you, Lauren. 

Today's Song: