1995

I turned 16 in 1995. I got my drivers license on the first try at 8am, in a snow storm on my 16th birthday. That was in January. The high point of my teenage experience! The rest of the year, a series of low points and the absolute worst year of my teens.

I have to start in 1991. I moved to a small town outside of St. Louis. It was my 12th move and it was not unlike the ones before it. I met a girl after we settled. We became the best of friends. We had our own language, we shared our secrets, or religion and our dreams. She was the childhood friend Judy Blume told us about. Although we were growing and finding ourselves we somehow stayed close.

In 1993, She came to my house hysterical. She told me a story that to this day I can remember every single word. She told me that evening after being in the sun all day and her back was burned, she asked her father to rub lotion on her back. He did but he didnt stop at her back. She said she couldnt move. She couldnt speak. She couldnt believe what was happening. She was sobbing so hard she was heaving. Her father was a prominent member in her church.

She said she finally jumped up and asked what he was doing and he responded he didn't know. He was so ashamed. It would never happen again.

I begged her to tell someone. She told me I had to promise not to say anything. I could ruin her fathers life. I was in a similar situation in my childhood and I did tell and no one believed me. Eventhough I knew it was best to tell someone I didnt. I promised her. (This is actually the first time I have spoken of it in nearly 20 years.)

Over the next few years she started to change. Slowly she got into drugs and alcohol and dropped out of school our sophomore year. Looking back now, with the knowledge I have of abuse...she had all the signs that the one time "incident" was just the gateway. I would bet money it wasnt the last time.

In that mindset I was just slowly writing her off. We'd spend less and less time together until we really wouldnt even see each other. She was no longer in school and now hanging out with older college age kids. We saw each other again twice more in her life.

March 7th, 1995. I was a Tuesday. It was much like my small town version of the Day JFK was shot. I dont remember much talking. Its like the world went silent. A car load of school mates were on their way to school. They were in a car accident. A bad one. one had died and the other two were in bad shape. I remember hearing sobbing in the hallways. They were football players, members of the wrestling team. Hometown Heros. The boy who died was Dustin. He was a real wise ass. We had math class together that semester. We sat next to each other and spent 50 minutes a day putting eachother down. We were both completely math stupid. I think we were both successfully failing the class. He made being math-impaired more bearable. I looked forward to his taunts and whispers.

His funeral was three days later, March 10th. I remember it vividly. I had never had someone my age die. It was the most surreal day. I had never seen so many people packed in that funeral home. I think everyone in town was there. Including my long lost BFF. I remember seeing her walk up. She had a very distinct walk. It was her 17th birthday. We hugged for the longest time and cried together. We went in and paid our respects. It was so crowded we decided to go out to the parking lot for a smoke. What she said under the pavilion the day still rings in my ears 16 years later. At the time it was just an observation. Small talk even. She said "When I die, I hope this many people love me and turn up at my funeral..."

I agreed. The outpouring and support was something that I had never seen. I had no idea it was a foreshadowing of the future.

The two other boys in the car accident eventually recovered but we were never really the same again. We all grew a little in that one day. Dustin's seat in math class stayed empty the rest of the year. No one dared touch that seat.

Things kept getting worse for my girlfriend. I last spoke to her on the phone. My sister who was 13 came home doing some Nazi white power chant and salute. I asked her where she learned it. I was furious. She told me it was Cayce. I called her up and went off on her. I told her if she wanted to throw her life away that was fine but do NOT teach my sister those things. If she knew what was best she would not even speak to my sister. I just didn't understand what could possibly be going on in her head! How did she go from the girl dragging me to church twice a week to a hateful, racist monster.

A few months later, November of my Junior Year my teen life as I knew it ended. My sister came in the front door in tears. I asked her what was wrong. She couldnt speak. When she did she said "Misty, Im so sorry. Im so sorry." I started to freak out. I screamed "What Amanda!? What" She finally managed to say "Cayce. Cayce is dead." I said "no she isnt shut up! thats not true." I got in my car and drove straight to her moms house. When I got there her brother was on the porch. Before I could even get out of the car I started screaming "its not true, right?! Tell me its not true" I was running up the yard before he could reply. He said "Its true, shes gone." I collapsed right there. I dont remember if I passed out or if my knees just gave out. I remember him picking me up and taking me inside. We didnt talk. We just sat staring at each other.

I never got to say goodbye. Or a chance to apologize for screaming at her on the phone. It was too late.

She died in a drunk driving accident. She was the passenger and the car hit a tree. She wasnt wearing her seat belt.

She wore purple at her funeral. Her favorite color. And her emerald ring. Her birthstone. She looked peaceful.

And, just as many people showed up at her funeral as Dustin. She was loved. She is still loved. Every year in March and November I think of her. I think I see her walk past me in crowded airports or malls.

I think of her when something big in my life happens. When I got married. When my children were born. I think she would have done these things. What would her life be like? Would we have had the chance to make up?

I cant take any of it back but I do try to learn from it. I try to not let things fester. I say what I feel right away and I am quicker to forgive. I cherish every friendship. All thanks to her.

And, because if Dustin I think I really just find the humor. We made a crappy situation easier with sarcasm and laughter.

So, this week is a hard one. I try to remind myself to live life and honor them. Celebrate our times together and not mourn.

I think they know I have never forgotten them. I still have the memory cards and all the news clippings of their accidents. If I ever forget the exact day or their birthday...its right in my book.

Cayce, Dustin...we miss you!