It was a month ago yesterday that you were taken from us, decades too soon. In that month, those of us you left behind have become closer than ever. I guess you can be happy about that. Many of us have said, "I hope I take on some of Rasha's patience, acceptance, zest for life" in order to have truly learned from your example. Sadly, all I can say so far is I've taken on some of your eating habits. Maybe that's just a step in a more tolerant direction.
You've left some pretty stunned people in your wake. Those of us who didn't know each other before have clung together to try to glean more of you from each other. We've celebrated your life, your birthday, your boyfriend's birthday, several other friends' birthdays & the Punk Rope DVD release. We've attended each other's plays & games, gone on 2 beach trips, picnicked, bowled & dined together. At every event, there was a huge void -- something making us all tear up, that we don't have to explain. There's never a smile or a laugh without the wistful thought, "Rasha should be here." You are greatly missed.
Even though it's been a month, it still feels unreal. None of us truly accepts the truth of the matter. And as I sit in an ICU waiting room for the second time in a month, I keep asking, "Why?" Why not the redneck sitting across from me who's obviously never met a fried vegetable she didn't love, a cigarette she didn't smoke or a beer she didn't chug? Why not the enormous lady from the other day who kept stuffing french fries down her gullet, apparently trying to make a quick transition from the Cardiac ICU waiting room to a semi-private room? Why not the little shithead who took your life, instead of you? None of it makes any sense. Maybe none of it ever will.
You are forever missed.
