Today, I saw an announcement on Facebook from someone I went to high school with that one of our classmates had died.
For a split second, I expected to see my own name. But it was someone from our class who had an ongoing battle with diabetes.
We weren’t close, but I knew her. We had some of the same classes and friends. My high school class of about 250 people had developed some sort of solidarity by the time we reached senior year. We had survived adolescence and most of our teen years together and had formed a bond. While a lot of people I know complain when they get a high school classmate friend request, I can say I genuinely like most of the people I went to high school with.
So when someone dies it’s upsetting and sad to say the least. In this case, I knew very little about her diabetes. Her rare health posts were upbeat, during her surgeries and hospital stays. I often admired how she handled her chronic illness with grace and a sense of humor.
At our 10-year reunion, I ended up talking to her for a while. There’s a photo somewhere of me and her and another friend goofing off, sticking our tongues out at the camera and being less angst-filled than we were as teens.
She had a tough exterior, but it didn’t hide that she was a truly sweet, generous person. I hope I can handle what life throws at me with half as much strength. RIP.