this one is about death

the first time I encountered death, I was in middle school. there was an almond roca in my mouth and I was watching an episode of phineas and ferb when the phone call came. my aunt or uncle went through to voicemail, and in a broken voice they addressed my dad, "hey... dad passed away last night." my grandpa. I broke down in tears. a short time later, my dad came home from work and he was crying too. it was the first time I had seen my dad cry. I didn't eat almond roca or watch phineas and ferb for a year after that.

in college, an former high school classmate passed away. he had beat leukemia in high school, but it came back for him. we shared a birthday, but we weren't friends, and he had been annoying in elementary school. still, this was a same aged peer.

in 2021, cassidy passed away. she had been driving home for the holidays when she got into a car accident, and her sister was in the car as well. we were in the same house in college, we had talked a few times, and she had been good friends with sheila. before sheila would call me for hours, she would call cassidy for hours. cassidy and I could very well have been friends.

michelle's dad was diagnosed with cancer a few years ago. he passed away in 2024, just a few hours after michelle, louise, and I met up for yoga.

but certainly this is your closest strike yet.

when I got david's message on sunday night, on my way back from picking up dinner, my stomach turned. but I didn't suspect. "hi are you free? urgent" it said. I knew it was about angela. I thought perhaps she was in a crisis and they needed my input. or maybe it was good news, they'd gotten engaged? unlikely though, it seemed negative. I responded, and david tried to call me, but I declined and wanted to wait until I was back in my apartment. the anxiety built, but still —

I called david on my laptop. he answered, and he said, "there's no easy way to say this... angela passed away yesterday."

I thought it would be bad, but not this. I keep replaying the tape back and forth over those words, and it's like running my finger along a blunt, jagged knife edge. to me, her death happened in the span of three words.

I started crying. quietly. david wasn't crying when he called, but he cried through the rest of the call too. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," he kept saying.

my mind ran the rest of the night, until I finally fell asleep at 4am.

the day after, the image that settled upon me was a light winking out. instantaneously and forever. it's like someone reached out and pinched it, and that's it. in a night sky of stars, just one blinked out. we are so small. so fragile. so temporary.