Venerating

My dear childhood friend, Amber, passed away three years ago this week. I finally made it over to her grave this evening and brought some flowers with me that were given to me by a friend... (it felt right to pass on the love, especially since I've been exploring the philosophy of love not being a commodity but having an infinite capacity, so the flowers got to take a concrete shape for the fluidity of loving emotion).

I had Eliza with me. In times past when I've gone to visit Amber's grave, I've made sure Eliza was elsewhere. I didn't want to freak her out by trying to explain what a graveyard was or mostly by exposing her to her mother breaking down in sobs. However, this year she seemed duly intelligent enough and I felt emotionally equipped enough to avoid the freak-age.

Tonight, I explained to her that the cemetery was a special, sacred place where people remember their loved ones. (I had previously explained to her about my dear friend who had died) She asked to carry the flowers, and I let her. She asked me to tell her the names on the other graves, and I read some of them to her. She seemed interested and able to comprehend the importance of that place, even though at first she thought that this was where the people died at. Oops.

But Eliza aptly described the experience as we were walking between the graves, "Mom, this is percent 100 sad." I read a name out to Eliza and she told me it was the name of one of her friends at school, but reminded me of her best friend's name. I shared with her that Amber had been my best friend since I was little, and that we had been in classes together at school and played together, and then I got choked up and stopped talking.

Eliza helped place the flowers into the vase on Amber's grave, and I sniffled while I told Eliza that she reminded me of Amber in some ways-- how silly she was and how much she loved to sing and what a beautiful voice Amber had and how she loved to perform for people!

So you won't be surprised that at this point in my blog post, I choose to venerate my friend by indulging in a couple of Amber vignettes.

Silly Songs

Amber had been taking voice lessons and invited me to her recital. Her dad drove me, and we

sat in a dimly lit church gym on metal chairs with the rest of the singers' families-- reluctant siblings, doting parents with camcorders, and snoozing off grandparents. The musical selections were unoriginal but cute. When it was Amber's turn, I could not believe that there could have been a song selection that was more perfectly fit for Amber. Amber, my adorable, somewhat prurient, boy crazy friend was given the role as Annie from the musical "Oklahoma." For those of you who aren't sufficiently schooled in your musical trivia, Annie is a girl who sings, "I'm just a girl who cain't say no!" and ends up getting kissed at the end of the song. I was a bashful 14 year old at the time and definitely blushed at the end of the song but couldn't help but beam at my best friend's performance. It was the role of a lifetime for her! I still find myself smiling thinking about it.

Amber introduced me to Celine Dion. Now, I probably could have been perfectly happy in my life without ever encountering Celine Dion. But the Titanic movie came to theaters when Amber and I were about 13, and Amber was in love! She was in love with Leonardo DiCaprio, the drama, the costumes, and especially the music. She found ways to act out the "Jack, I'm flying" scene (where Kate Winslet shows off her arm spreading skills at the edge of the boat) more than I would have thought humanly possible. But whenever I went over to Amber's house that year, we would turn the volume up on her teeny boom box as high as we could, and she would belt out along with Celine's vocals until her mother would come tell her to turn it down or her brother would bang on the wall and yell for her to shut up.

I was an overly serious adolescent and teen, and Amber always helped me loosen up. We would spend hours down in my classy basement room that I had decked out with a red tinted light bulbs and Christmas lights all year long. We would sing and dance our hearts out to Hanson's, "Mmm Bop!" and draw in magic marker all over my plywood desktop, discussing how many kids we would have someday, how Amber planned to become an actress, and how to get our hands on more clothes from The Limited II. And then dance and sing some more to Hansen. Glamorous.

Years later, I had just gotten my license, and Amber and I had stayed out past curfew to see The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood. Our blood was pumped full of angsty teenage adrenaline from breaking rules, so we rolled the windows in my little '93 Toyota Tercel and turned the music up as loud as we could as we sped across the Lake Murray Dam. In her carefree and passionate way, Amber somehow convinced me that the best thing we could do at that time was to take our shirts off to re-enact a scene from the movie and yell, "Ya-yaaaa!" out the windows. She went for it, but I being the prudish-good-little mormon girl that I was, found it to be daring enough just to take off my t-shirt and just wear my white tank top to join her in the "Ya-ya!" cry of independence and autonomy. We both got grounded. Totally worth it.

There were darker times for both Amber and myself, but we lived through them together, pulled each other through. Amber's life ended on a dark note. I think I mourn the most for her when happy, exultant surprises or occasions arise in my life because I think about how she should still be alive enjoying those moments as well, especially since she was SO so good at acutely experiencing life, being in love, singing her heart out.

Sometimes I think that because of her passion, maybe she had already sucked all the marrow out of life, and that made her ready to move on. Some people could live 90+ years and not experience anywhere near the emotional magnitude that Amber experienced in her 23 years on this earth....

On my way to the cemetery tonight, I played the song that I remember last blasting through my car stereo and singing on the top of my lungs to WITH AMBER. Originally, Amber thought that the song was called "Ambers and Envelopes" and we laughed when we found out the true name was "Embers and Envelopes." The song was surprisingly apropos and is what convinced me to go ahead and write some of my feelings out here...

"Embers and Envelopes" by Mae

We write to apologize

We ask to look past life as it goes by

I know you have sacrificed Time, life, love- time to fly

Please consider all things trite

Forgiveness will be the thing that gets us by

I know to have something like this broken is hard to fix

Embers- we're burning bridges down

Envelopes- stuffed with feelings found

We write things down as means to reconcile

We write to patch things up

Maybe not to agree but to proclaim love

Let's look ahead and then

We'll see the One whose glory never ends

And based on that we'll see

There will be room for change but gradually

I know to have something like this broken is hard to fix

If all is said and done and over

If we don't have to We're not going to

Make the change it's worth a try

What's broken can be fixed tonight

As Eliza and I walked back to the car, I picked her up and gave her a big hug, and she squeezed me back tight. She told me that when she looked up at the sky it made her think about Heavenly Father and all the people that have died. We talked about families being forever. Surely a merciful god would allow me to someday see my dear friend again... surely this just, compassionate God would have a plan that would make it so Amber is no longer suffering right now but finally feeling peace, finally feeling ENOUGH love.

I miss you, Amber Alice.