I lost (more than) an earring...

Earring from Ann

A few weeks ago, I went on a group bike ride (which was awesome), and since we were celebrating bikes in Music City, everyone was encouraged to wear western themed clothes. The shirt in my closet that most closely resembled "western wear" had a red floral print, I reached for this pair of earrings: red beads and a flower. By the time we reached our destination, I'd lost one of them - a casualty of wind and competition from a large scarf. 

I hadn't seen my friend who made them for me in a few months. Ann was a generous, cheerful spirit. I can't remember a time that we talked that didn't involve her laughing one of her infectious, hearty laughs. When she talked about going home to be with her husband, planning to surprise him by arriving a day early, her plans were interspersed with her excited chuckles, imagining his face when she walked in the door. He was always the one surprising her over their long courtship, and she was eager to get the chance to turn the tables. 

I'll never know what that reunion with her husband was like. Before we got the chance to catch up over a christmas card or hurried email, let alone a skype chat across the continents, I received word that Ann had taken her own life. I still can't believe it. How could my laughing friend be driven to such an act in the few months since we'd parted? Was there anything I could have done or said, was it wrong to encourage her to follow her heart and leave graduate school to be with her family and husband? 

Of course there is no answer to such questions. Or to the questions her other friends and family must be asking themselves now. And even if there are answers, they can't bring back her smiling face, her quick wit, or her giving spirit. The world is a poorer place for the lack of Ann, and the most I can hope is to live up to my memories of her by reaching out, sharing, and laughing, even through tears.