Laura

When we are young, we believe we will live forever, that we are invincible and that the future stretches out before us like some mythical Route 66, into adventure and the unknown.

On this day, in 1981, life conspired to give me a wake-up call and dissuade me of that certainty once and for all.

Laura and I had been co-workers, then friends as we were both Messenger Clerks (aka MCs) at the Pacoima Branch Library.  She was serious with a LARGE streak of fun built in.  The oldest child in her family, she naturally took the lead in many of our interactions.

I remember sitting in the tiny apartment I shared with my then-husband with a group of co-workers, having glasses of cheap wine ( possible other herbal substances?  I can't remember) and having long conversations.  One of our group declared Laura "an angel walking"  she was a good person, without being the kind of goody-goody you wanted to smack.

She and I were a month apart in age.

We were both going to Cal State Northridge, she in Business, me in English.  I was planning on becoming a librarian, I don't know if she had any real dreams about her life past the business degree.  CSUN had- and probably still HAS-one of the best business programs around.

Then she got sick.  In the last year of school she was misdiagnosed with "arthritis" and had to drop out.  She was really sick.  We kept in touch and visited her at her home.  They could not make her well.  In early February, we heard she was in the hospital,so we went to visit.  She confessed to craving Swenson's Mocha Chip ice cream, so the next day we returned with it.  We laughed and chatted while she ate and I told her when she got out we would bring our lasers and fog machines to her house to celebrate (my then-husband and I ran a small lighting and effects business on the side for bands and clubs)  She LOOKED at me.  Just that look and I knew that she knew she was never going home.  She didn't say anything, but she knew. 

I shut up.

I was at work when the call came.  I remember being in the workroom, hearing Stella Kobayashi say, "No, Robyn's right here" and hanging up.  She told me Laura had died.  I heard someone screaming. I realized it was me.  I went home. I couldn't think straight enough to work  and called a co-worker to tell her.  She accused me of lying, hung up on me and called back in a minute.  She came to my house and we stood on the front porch, hugging and sobbing.

It turns out Laura did not have arthritis, but an aggressive form of Lupus.  In 1981, it was incurable.

Fittingly, Laura's funeral was Valentine's Day.  She was 22.

I think of her often. I wonder where we would be, still friends I hope, raising children, loving grandchildren- all of which was not to be for her.  I wonder who she would have become and I miss the young woman I knew. I visit a photo of the mural int he Young Adult section of the Pacoima Library where the artists painted her as the Madonna. The mural HAD been in the children's room at the old Library. She was ROYALLY pissed at him, but I think he had a huge crush one her.

I am glad he did that.

I gave my daughter her middle name as HER middle name, Elizabeth.  I don't think people become angels when they die ( a topic for a future blog, I think) but I think their spirits may remain somewhere.  I wanted the essence of her goodness to be part of my girl.

There's an Irish Proverb ( at least I have heard it, but I think many cultures say something similar) "Do not resent growing old, many are denied the privilege"  I look at myself, and the life I was granted and am thankful.  I am blessed in this journey and in thinking of Laura today, I am reminded.