Amanda Jo

Today, my friends, has been a rough one. 6 years ago today, I lost one of my closest friends to a car accident. When people die who are at older age, it somehow seems more accepted in a way since they are perceived as having lived a good life. When someone dies at the age of 23, it comes as a shock in more ways than one. In many ways, their lives are just beginning, they are just starting to figure out who they are and what they want their life to be made up of. In an instant, that can all be taken away, leaving them gone and leaving their family and loved ones with a void, never being able to be filled. The day I found out Amanda and her boyfriend, Jason had died the previous evening in a car accident is a day that will forever be etched in my mind. In a mere moment, the breath was taken from my chest and hysterics came in large, submerging waves. The idea that she was gone, was something that I could not even begin to comprehend. We all live our lives in this type of denial, thinking that the unthinkable could never happen to us...until it does.

When Amanda passed, I was 8 months pregnant with Lane. I flew home the next day, knowing that missing her last goodbye was not possible. I lived those next days in a daze. 2 wakes and 2 funerals in as many days. I felt that my life was ripped apart and couldn't begin to think of picking up the pieces. To this day, there is not a single day that goes by that I don't think of her, wondering what her life would be like today. I still find myself reaching for the phone to call her when things happen that I know she would love.

A month and 8 days after her passing, I had Lane and my grief grew to higher levels than I ever imagined. I was then able to understand the love that a parent has for their child, and the idea of losing them brought me to my knees. I grieved for her parents, her brother, her family. Though my pain was great, their pain was even more.

Throughout the years, I have been able to slowly move forward, able to live my life without the daily struggle of grief. I feel her around me, letting me know that she's ok. I still have my selfish moments, wanting her here, yet am comforted with the idea that she is in a place we all hope to be. So until then, I can look forward to the day until we can laugh together again, telling each other our crazy stories, until I can feel her hugs.

So, my friends, hug your loved ones tight tonight. Let them know you love them to the moon and back.