No Words

Tara's wake was yesterday. It was probably one of the most surreal sad experiences of my life - Tara's parents looked like robots. They were hugging everyone with absolutely no expressions on their faces. I am sure they were just in a complete state of shock. Rob, the older bro, was laughing alot, I am assuming it was his way of trying to deal with the severity of the situation. It was really really scary to see. Tracy, the oldest sister, was the only one i can say looked composed - and I am told she was dressed completely in Tara's clothes. At least Rob and Tracy knew who I was - I am sure their parents didn't recognize me. There were tons of people from LBHS there, most of them i was too dazed to notice or talk to. Just seeing the pictures of her all over, seeing her family in such a state, it just is hard to wrap your head around that someone so young is actually DEAD. It was truly an unreal day.

I think I pretty much know that people of all ages die - that isnt the shock...the shocking thing is it wasn't cancer or even a murder. It was someone I grew up with, a family I spent a lot of time with, and it was something totally absolutely preventable.That is the shock and the horrifying truth - that we are all mortal. Never really thought about that before.

The other thing that tears me up enough to break down as I write is watching that family suffer, and then coming home and looking at my perfect little girl sitting there. Tara was their perfect little girl 30 years ago. I could not fathom losing my baby, I don't know how I would go on living...and I can only imagine that 30 years worth of time makes that attachment even stronger, and I cannot fathom how they are feeling. Just the tiniest thought of Ella dying before me is enough to send me into insanity.

Today was the funeral. It was like a bizarre warped Harmon Street and Long Beach High School Class of 1994 reunion where noone was happy to see each other because noone was happy. It was the most horrifying and heartbreaking experience of my life. Seeing the family in absolute despair, watching all of the pallbearers in hysterics, one of them with a Billy's Beach Cafe t-shirt draped over his shoulder with a bunch of signatures on it (Tara's, I am presuming, being one of them), seeing that casket right next to me and knowing that inside of it was a 31 year old girl who I used to be very close to...it defies description. The ceremony was short and touching. The crowd was so large that they had the front doors open so people could watch from the street, and they also closed down Park Avenue.

I left feeling hollow inside. Again, I wondered as to why this was tearing me apart so deeply. I now think it is a combination of factors. I think it feels like a part of my childhood, a part of my innocence has been destroyed forever. Maybe it also has to do with the fact that my gym is right next to where Tara worked, and I knew that, and I never stopped in to say hi, even though I am there 3-4x a week. I will always think of her when I drive down the block to see my mom, and think of how I'll never see her again. Another reason, I think, is that I never knew Tara as an adult. I am pretty sure the last time we really spoke was high school. At the wake, there were a zillion photos of her lining the walls...she had the same smile I remember, but I didn't know her anymore. I didn't know any of her friends. I had nothing whatsoever to do with her adult life. And now I never will.

Ella has been getting an extraordinary amount of extra squeezes the past few days that she is fit to burst...today she got teary ones, and she looked at me and couldn't understand why. Someday I'll tell her, but for now I just put on "Go Diego Go" and watch her laugh and dance, and I know all will be right with the world.

This is the only picture I have of Tara, from our 1994 LBHS Yearbook. This is how I will always remember her.

This is what Tara wrote in the back of my yearbook - I have read it over and over since this afternoon, and the fountains of tears erupt every time. It is just classic Tara, completely describing our childhood and our relationship in a short paragraph. Now, in retrospect, it seems like a goodbye note, saying how she felt I would be successful and I shouldn't forget her. That I should stop by and see her sometime. And I should always be happy and always stay crazy. I promise you, Tara...I will ALWAYS stay crazy. And when the sadness of your leaving us fades, I will be happy again. I just hope your family will be able to regain some happiness in this life now that you aren't in it.