Goodbye, Ashleigh

October 7th, 2009 (Wednesday)

I just found out that a dear friend (Ashleigh Tracy) had passed away on the 28th of September. What a blow to the face. I can’t say that I knew her as well as some people, but was ecstatic when I had found her on Facebook just about three months ago. We quickly picked up where we had left off being friends and we exchanged countless messages. Although she had a very busy life with four children, she always seemed to find or make time for me. Quickly, I realized that she was a very laid back, happy and busy mother of four, who did everything for her children and loved life.

I sit here, mourning her life and the loss in my life, along with the mourning I’m sure that her family is feeling. Tears keep streaming down my face, because I loved her and will miss our cheerful conversations about how it’s a mystery that we can’t keep our homes clean or how the laundry is never ending. Although I mourn her loss, a thought keeps popping into my head. “Asheigh would have wanted me to be happy and learn something from this.” So in honor of her, I wanted to quickly write down a few things that have come into my mind as I remember her and honor her.

Life is fragile. She left behind four young children of her own. I look at my two boys, ages three and almost two and I think now; why am I always so concerned with having everything perfect around the house? I yell too much, and I am frazzled too often. I yell at them non-stop and am very impatient. I always have things to do and look for ways to fill up my time, rather than being with my two little people who mean everything to me, next to my husband. Why am I always on the go and the rush and never sit down to watch Kai’s favorite bug movie with him? Why do I hate taking walks with them and worry so much about the heat or the mosquitos when they want to look at every God made creation? I ought to change, I need to change. It’s time for me to open my eyes and realize what life is all about. Ashleigh probably knew the secrets of life, and seemed to laugh more than me. She always had some new project she was doing for her kids-the birthday cakes, the made-up parties, the pictures filled with laughter and crazy-ness with her children. I want to be more like her. These aren’t things that she directly taught me, these are things I felt from her and saw in her countenance. It’s too bad that it takes something so tragic as this to give me a good slap-wakening moment. I want to enjoy my family more. Think less of me, how I could fill up my time and be a better person, just like Ashleigh. I think...no, I somehow feel that this is what she would have wanted me to realize.

Thank you, Ashleigh. I will miss you, but until we meet again, thank you.