I just finished watchin Joan of Arcadia. (I love that show! 'Cause I do.) It made me think and relate, totally . . . Joan's (best?) friend, Judith, was murdered 3 weeks ago (episodes--I missed the one after that/before this one where she questioned God, but anyway), in tonight's episode, God tells her to face one of her fears (He doesn't tell her which fear, just to face it) and she assumes He means the diving team because of her extreme fear of heights (I prefer my feet on solid ground myself). . .  But not to get into all the details, we fast forward to the end . . . Judith's headstone had finally been completed and while everyone else went to see it during the middle of the episode, Joan had to dive, she couldn't go, more like wouldn't . . . she was afraid, deep down, of seeing Judith's name and the dates on the headstone--it would mean that she have to say goodbye for real . . .

I can relate . . .

My freshman year of high school, we were almost finished with the first semester/term/whichever you call it, when my best friend (we shared first names) passed away, (unlike Judith though, Jess wasn't murdered, she just passed in her sleep). It happened on a Sunday, so of course I had no clue about it until Moday morning when I got to school . . .

Moday morning, I got up, showered, dressed, and basically did everything I normally did in order to get ready for school and the dash outside just in time to catch the bus before the driver would leave me (hey, she came at 7:15 in the morning! and I'm NOT a morning person, never have been, except on Christmas day . . . ) and caught the bus to school. After I get on, the driver goes around the long way to pick up this girl, a friend who was a couple of grades ahead of me, Sheena. Sheena got on the bus and turn her seat behind me (we had assigned seats, on the bus, yes) and she asked me if I had heard. "Heard what?" About the girl that was in my class at school, she had my first name, who had died yesterday. "Jessica Hulsey?" Yeah, that sounded right. "No way. It couldn't be." Yeah, she thought it was . . . bus ride continues as normal . . . get to school and as soon as I stepped into the building, it hit me . . . our friends we shared (Jess and mine) were crying . . . I knew it was her, but I still wanted to deny it, until I came upon Katie Peverall, and that did it . . . I started to cry, but somehow it didn't feel like it was me, I was in another plane watching all this around me . . . then the bell sounded and classes began . . . first block (we're on a 4 block system) was band . . . I was a little teary and bummed, but I was making it, until the morning announcements . . . "Let's pause for a moment of silence in memory of Jessica Husley . . ." no sooner than her first name was mentioned, I lost control of my emotions, this sob from somewhere deep inside me escaped, and I mean escaped because I'm not one to cry out loud I'm one of those silent cryers, and the drum major, Jason Watkins (he's such a sweetie) said that if anyone needed to be excused they could go, and I left for the bathroom, I ran . . . and cried for a good 15 minutes . . . and somehow, I don't remember who took me, but somehow I ended up at the guidance counselors' offices where they had grief counselors waiting for us and that would be there all day . . . we talked, we remembered her . . . how she loved the NWO, she loved Celine Dion, the way she always picked the ends off of her french fries before she'd eat them, her love of the Braves that we shared--"Javy-o"--and Javy Lopez, everything . . . then came time for second block and I went to class . . . Ms. Reynolds grabbed me in a great big bear hug (I literally couldn't breathe) and told me that she "only had one Jessica left now" and we both cried, well, I sobbed, class was nothing but a memorial to her, the poems and pieces of literature that we read revolved around death and rememberance, but I made it though the class . . . third block was geography with Mr. Dalton, the most racist black hypocritic minister I've ever met (but that's a different story), and he offered to let me change my seat because Jess would sit either in front or behind me (I can't really remember which, but the seats were assigned), this was really big of him since he was a stickler for not allowing and changing of seats for whatever reason, but I refused, it was our spot in the class room, and that's where I wanted to stay, and I got through class . . . bell rings and it time for lunch, I turn around as I round the hallway to ask her which side of the cafeteria she wanted to sit on, but she wasn't there, that was the longest walk, EVER, although I went to the cafeteria, I couldn't eat, I didn't even go in, just sat out in the hall way, and for the rest of the semester when the bell rang for lunch, I felt like she was there, but I couldn't find her, we were the only ones of our group of friends that came to lunch from that hall, so I'd walk that path, alone for the rest of the semester . . . finally fourth block came, the last class of the day, I don't really remember anything that happened in that class or even which class it was, I think by the time it came around, I was numb, I had had all the emotion I could take for the day, but that day has to rank up there as one of the worst in my life . . .

The funeral was later that week, I had to go to school for the first two blocks and then mom came and got me . . . I cried during the whole visitation, and the funeral was no different . . . they played her favorite songs, one of which I have on CD but can no longer listen to it without crying, Celine Dion and R.Kelly-I'm Your Angel, and then after the memorial it was time to go to the cemetary . . . as the procession drove by the middle school we had attended and graduated from just the year before, there were a group of students and teachers holding up a sign saying "We Will Always Miss You Jessica" . . . it made me cry again, and then my mom told me something my baby sister told her the night before, "God must have needed another angel in heaven" and something to the effect of Jess being the perfect one for the job . . . I cried harder, (this may make me sound like a wuss, but I'm crying now as I write this, I just needed to get it out after Joan of Arcadia), and then we had arrived at the burial site . . . I don't remember that as much or anything that happened during the rest of that day . . .

And now how this story really relates to Joan of Arcadia . . . I've never been back to her graveside since the day of her fineral . . . I guess deep down I have the same fear Joan had to face in the episode tonight . . . I've wanted to go, many times, but "something" always came up or got in the way . . . I mean I know she's gone and has been for a long time . . . November 15, 2004, made it 6 years that she's been gone . . . we were the Jessicas, we didn't say this, but teachers did, they always paired us together for group projects, maybe it was the same first name thing, or that we were such close friends, I'm not sure, maybe it was both . . . I think the reason I've never gone is because there is some deep hidden fear I have yet to recognize . . . but maybe I'll go one day while I'm home on break . . .maybe . . .

I need a tissue . . .