Melissa Loewen


Sunday, the last time I saw you, you said I seemed worried I would never see you again.

I am glad that I called you after that, this Wednesday, but I now I wish I had called you Thursday, and Friday, and, hell, every other day this week. In our last conversation, we talked about how stressful the end of the school year was for you, with the report cards to complete and events which needed planning. How you had finally negotiated a lighter teaching load for next fall. I was going to come play trombone for your students this coming week. We talked about going hiking this weekend — how you needed to get in shape for your trip to Australia, where you'd be celebrating your 30th birthday with your best friend. (Though you would never tell us exactly what day that was.)

You'd been saving for years to make that trip, and it was only two weeks away. It was exciting.

It isn't right that you died Friday, in a car accident. Weren't you the first person I really opened up to in this city? Mightn't you have been the first person I called if this had been someone else?

Others affected:

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