MARCH

March is Hard.

It's the month when I realized what death was.
One of my good friends' older brother died in a car accident on his way into youth group a decade ago.

I remember crying my eyes out even though he wasn't really my friend.
I could see how it affected my sister.
And in my mind, I'd imagined how hurt my friend was and how horrible my Sunday-School teacher and her husband had to be doing.

Being just a young kid, I didn't know him that well, but I remember Kevin.
I remember him giving us a 4-H demonstration about how to make your own ammunition during tour.
I remember his voice, his laugh and his smile.
I remember him melting the crayons as we waited for our food after a day at the stock show.

And I remember what his face looked like when we went to the church for the visitation.
It was green and caked with make-up, but it was him.  He was really gone.


I remember everything about his funeral.
I remember what his friends got up and talked about.
I remember where I sat.
I remember eating as a community afterwards.

I remember thinking this is the worst thing ever and hoping it would never happen again.

But it did and it will keep happening because death is part of life.

Fast forward to 2009, a couple months before graduation.

March 1
 I had a huge paper due the next day so I couldn't go watch my girls with my best friend while their parents were out bowling. But she sent me a text message that I remember to this day. "Where are the scissors?"  Simple question.... yes.  But the story behind it makes me smile.  She was giving the kids popsicles and then couldn't get them open.  She didn't want to ask their parents because the girls maybe shouldn't have frozen sugar right before bed.

I called and gave her crap for trying to bribe her way into the favorite babysitter spot and told her where they were.

We chatted for a few minutes, said I love you, and hung up.

That was the last time I talked to my best friend.

March 5
It was Thursday. I was on the bus, heading south for regional basketball when I got a message saying they were flying Kelly flight for life because she couldn't breathe.  I had just talked to her a few days ago.  This couldn't be happening.  Having nobody else on the bus that really knew her, I went to the assistant basketball coach crying.  He prayed with me.

For the next week, I would text her brother or mom for updates on how she was doing several times a day. She was in the ICU but she'd made it past the window where they thought she might not make it.  She was young and athletic.  Pneumonia didn't have anything on her.  I didn't see it as scary anymore because I thought she was just in the ICU so she could heal faster.  She was going to be okay.

March 12
My basketball team had qualified for state so again we were travelling down south, this time to CSU Pueblo.  We played our game and then went to our hotel.  I was still kind of an "outsider" because I had transferred into this school so I got my own area with my own TV.  Coach told us to turn off the cell phones and focus on basketball so I did.  I couldn't sleep so I laid there watching one of the longest ever college basketball games, Syracuse vs. the  Huskies.  It went into 6 overtimes but I still couldn't sleep.  Something was wrong.

Then I got a knock at the door.  It was my coach and his wife.

Don't say it. DO. NOT. SAY. IT.
"Liza, your mom called.  I'm so sorry.... Kelly passed away."

I collapsed.  I had known what he was going to say before the words came from his mouth.

I just started wailing uncontrollably.

No.  The Doctors had said she had made it though.  She was going to be okay.

My best friend couldn't be gone.  It was impossible.

I called my sister in Kansas where it turns out she had been responsible for telling Kelly's big brother that his baby sister was gone.

We bawled.

My mom offered to come and get me but I couldn't go.

Here I was lonely because nobody knew her like me.
There I would have had to face the truth that she was gone.

So I stayed.  I was pretty worthless but I stayed.

And you know what I remember from the rest of State Basketball?

I remember getting calls from her ex boyfriends, the string of guys in my phone named (Insert Name) Kelly's.   These guys were ones that at some point in their relationship, I had probably threatened to beat up if they ever hurt her.  They were calling me for answers about a situation that I will never understand.

I remember going into the game and getting matched up man to man defence with a girl who wore the same number as my best friend.  I almost started bawling again.

I know we won something (because my sister took a picture of it) but I couldn't tell you what place.  I didn't even care.

What I cared about was looking up and seeing my sisters.  I wanted to hug them and cry with them.  And I did the whole way back to my parent's house.

When I got into town, I went to where the family was gathering, the family that had adopted me years ago.  I couldn't hardly stand looking around and seeing all those people who reminded me so much of her and not being able to find my favorite.  But we hugged and we cried.

From there it gets really foggy. 

I don't remember doing much.

When I was awake, I was crying.  When I closed my eyes I had nightmares that left me with tear stained pillows and waking up to find out they were true.
 I went into her room and tried to soak up her smell and cuddled with her pillows imagining they were her.

The week of March 16th was my spring break, but I wouldn't have been able to go back even if it wasn't.  Her funeral was set for Thursday, March 19th.  Her Birthday was the next monday.

I had been invited to sit with her class, the people I'd gone to school with for 10 years before transferring, at the funeral.  Jess and I led the class in to our seats. Somehow we made it through her funeral, a gym packed full of people whose lives she'd touched with a smile, a hug, a friendship or just a dorky comment.

Then we made it through her 18th birthday

Then through the next couple years in zombie mode.

I was pissed off at God.
I couldn't stand being around people who had friends.
I refused to make friends because I thought they might die.
I was diagnosed with PTSD and depression.
I got mad at people who were moving on with their lives.
I was terrified that I would forget.
I kept having nightmares.
I made poor choices out of anger and loneliness.
I felt guilty for still being here when she wasn't.


It took a long time and a lot of people to help me work through some of these things.  Five years later, I still struggle with them from time to time, especially when March comes around again.

March is Hard.  But God is Bigger.

And He never has nor ever will leave me.

Miss You Kell Bell <3