Lindsay

One week ago today, a very good family friend passed away from Hodgkin's lymphoma. Her name was Lindsay, and she just turned 22 years old.

She fought the battle with cancer for nearly three years, and she just never could get better. I don't care who you are, there is NO justice in a 22-year-old dying of cancer. It's so weird thinking of a girl with whom I have childhood memories and inside jokes with, dead.

When we were younger, she and her brother would play often with me and my sister. Our families are great friends. I just can't believe that she's gone.

My mom called me with the news on Tuesday, and it was the weirdest timing ever: I was on my way home, and then I was going to pick up a friend from work. We were headed to the hospital to see a new baby that our friend at church had had in the early morning hours. How strange that I get a phone call about death when I am on my way to witness a new life. My friend and I talked about Lindsay's death on the way to the hospital. She said, "You know, you always assume that you're going to live to be 90 years old, and all your friends will live to be that long too. But, that's not a guarantee." No, indeed.

It's not that I have any grandiose ideas about "not taking life for granted," but Lindsay was the first person from my childhood to die, that I know about anyway. NOTHING is certain, that's for sure.