Cherilyn, I miss you.

I am missing my friend right now who was brutally killed at the hands of some unknown criminal who undoubtedly is wreaking havoc somewhere either behind bars or loose on the streets, provided he isn't dead already. I didn't attend her funeral because I couldn't find the write-up anywhere- not online, not in the local paper, not word of mouth. We hadn't seen each other in probably 5 years, maybe 10. I don't remember.
She was a staple in my life when I was in junior high, and then came in and out of my life when the time was right.
We got in a lot of trouble together, so much trouble that I can't even talk about it to this day with my mom. We can however, talk about her death, about how untimely it was, how young she was, about how her parents must still be devastated, but because of her mother's strong faith, she is probably doing better than her father, whose faith I am unsure of. Regardless, they both have bleeding hearts and I'm sure that Christmas has never been the same.
This is the girl who convinced me to frost my bangs in 7th grade. It was no coincidence that she went on to become a hairdresser. She cut my hair a few times for free at her mother's house, which incidentally, was very close to my parent's new house out at the lake.
We grew up in the same neighborhood for many years, and then when we were both in our early twenties, both of our parents moved out to the lake, and lived in about a ten minute proximity from one another. It felt really good at the time to know that my good friend lived nearby even though I was still in college, and living in another city.
She visited me quite a bit while I was in school. My house was about as big as a booger, but it was always full of people, some more than others, and looking back now, I should have probably said no more to the out of town guest's requests for visits. I may have graduated college had I been stricter with my personal time. Either way, I had fun, and I'm not ashamed, nor regretful.
Cherilyn and I double dated a lot, if you can call them dates. It was more like, go to David's house and play quarters, or run around the club scene. We we were always doing something.
She was the one who convinced me to pay my last $20 to dangle from a ridiculous height, from an even thinner cord that somehow suspended both of us, and insisted that I pull the cord, which would release us to our most certain death, at least that's what I felt in that single moment. "I'm going to die, and I'm only 15. And it's Cherilyn's fault."
Everything was her fault. She was the instigator. She was the fun one, the wild one, the stupid one. I can just imagine what happened in that hotel room that day that she and 3 others were shot to death. She ran her mouth. She said something to the wrong person and BAM! Her life ended.
I found out that same night it happened. My mother called me and told me once more, "Brooke, I have some really, really bad news." I had just bought my new home and Sarah was sleeping soundly, without a baby monitor present mind you, in her recycled brown wooden crib that I had just bought from an extremely nice Indian couple living and working temporarily in Charlotte for BOA, because working locally, they say, they got paid more. I later had to give the mattress away because it smelled like curry. No joke.
I sat there, at the top of my stairs, and stared out the window at the tree. I couldn't believe it. My friend, my best friend, was no longer around to call. She was no longer alive. And I had plans for her to meet my new daughter soon. I hadn't made contact with her, but I knew that day would come.
It didn't. It couldn't now. I would never see her again, with her tall, lanky ass, with her over bleached blond straight hair, with her beautiful almond eyes, and long fingers which held her Virginia Slims so effeminately.
She made smoking look cool. She looked elegant, and sophisticated, like a model in a 1950s commercial.
She was tall enough and thin enough to be a model, but I could only imagine her demeanor on set. A Primadonna. "Have that little bitch get it for me. That little fat one." That sounds so mean when I type it, but if you knew her at all, you would know that she wasn't malevolent at all. She may have been feisty, but she wouldn't have ever hurt anyone deliberately. But she said some funny shit. She kept me rolling, and there were jokes that we had hundreds of revisits to throughout our twenty year friendship, that would have definitely made it another forty, had we both been fortunate enough to live that long.
One time her mom barged in her room to yell at Cherilyn for something she had done, only she was topless and braless, droopy boobs, which I heard she had fixed later down the line, flopping around every which way. She stood there pointing her finger, and every time she shook it, her boobs jiggled more. We laughed hysterically after she finished her rant and finally left. That was how close I was with her and her family- her mom would walk around topless in front of me. I solemnly promise to Sarah right now, I will never scream at her with my boobs hanging out.
I pronounced her name wrong for years, until at age 25 she finally corrected me. I always said CheriLYN. It was actually pronounced, CHERilyn. She let me mispronounce her name for all those years. I guess she liked the way I pronounced it, either that, or she just didn't mind. That's how cool she was.
I could go on and on and on with stories. But I'll spare you.
Her mother somehow knew. She knew that Cherilyn would die at a young age. She would never admit that. That was her daughter, her firstborn, her baby. She would never admit to knowing that Cherilyn was destined for early death, but I know she knew. I felt like we all did.
Just like when my younger brother died at the young age of 20. I knew. My mom knew. I can't explain it, but it was like God was preparing me for it, preparing us for it, those of us who were listening, and I don't know that I was holding out my ear for what God had to say at that time in my life- probably not come to think of it.
I know that sounds morbid, and many people won't understand that. I'm sorry for even saying it, as it sounds prophetic.
Cherilyn had a great family. She had a younger sister, who I'm sure misses her tremendously. Although she might not have been the perfect roll model for a sibling ten years younger, she emitted the perfect love. And although Cherilyn wasn't the queen of making good decisions, she was a good friend nonetheless. I miss her.
She was the kinda gal that you could miss for ten years, bump into at a grocery store, and it was like you never missed a beat. All those years shaved off instantly.

Those kind of friends are the kind that you don't ever let go of.

I have cried many tears for her, and although we hadn't seen each other in ages, I felt like I had lost a family member who I positively interacted with on a daily basis. I will see her again one day, and tell her how much I missed her. But until then, I will have a bank of fond memories to recall when I think of her. I'm proud that I had the chance to know Cherilyn Crawford.