There's been a lot of exciting news lately in planetary science, what with the discovery of another one in our solar system and the realization that there used to be saltwater, and therefore possibly life, on Mars.
With all the news I couldn't help but think of my friend from high school who liked planetary science. Not so much astronomy, as most of the people I knew who liked space were into, but what was going on with the planets. She was a year ahead of me in high school, then went to MIT, and eventually earned a Ph.D. and went to work for NASA. For a while we kept in touch via email when we were in college – this in the early 90's before the Internet was en vogue - but eventually as we both moved on with our busy and changing lives we lost track of each other.
Last year some mutual friends found her again and she emailed the group of us some pictures to catch up. This email, unfortunately, came smack in the middle of my stressful spring last year. I kept postponing writing her back because I didn't have the opportunity to find any pictures to scan and send back to her. I left her email in my inbox anyway though as a reminder to get around to it eventually. But no real rush, right?
Last Wednesday my email started bouncing because my inbox was full. I had to go through all the old message and decided to delete the emails with big attachments to get back the most space. There was Beth's email, with the pictures she'd sent. "Oh I shouldn't delete that," I thought. "It's got her email address so I can write her back."
That night I was out at a big school event and didn't hear my cell phone ring with a cryptic message from one of our mutual friends. "Call me as soon as you get this message." She left it on my cell phone, home phone, and in an email. I called her back when I got home.
"Beth's dead," she told me. Perhaps it's crude to write this down here, but maybe writing it and reading it later will help me realize that it's actually true. Otherwise it's so unfathomable. Maybe in a little way it's not too shocking: when she'd been younger she'd had some heart troubles. But supposedly that was all in the past and she was healthy now. In the email from last year she was her wonderful, effervescent self. There was no reason to believe that last year's email was my last chance to connect with her.
Apparently she'd collapsed suddenly at work. It came as a complete shock to everyone. My friend, in fact, had just booked a trip to go visit her and her boyfriend in a few weeks. Everyone was looking forward to the future. No one expected her not to be in it. She was barely more than 30. This is the age when our friends are starting to get married and have kids. Not die.
With no more tomorrows to postpone our catching up I feel disgusted with myself for having wasted so many yesterdays. The shame of it is how the years of silence have dimmed the projection of my memories of her in my head, yet the former strength of our friendship leaves the memories crisp in focus and colorful nonetheless. We used to be good friends for several years. In fact, she introduced me to one of my best friends, the one who called to tell me. In the days since her death I've been blowing away the cobwebs and trying to remember her better. She had a great sense of humor and an unusual but wonderfully contagious giggle. She had a unique fascination for fish, not so much as aquatic specimens perhaps but because of their inherent physical absurdity. She was smart and sensitive, and I remember some of our conversations in high school when we were trying to figure out how we would eventually make our way in the world.
She also was the first person to introduce me to Monty Python. On the occasion when I met my other friend, we were at her house for a birthday party and watched The Holy Grail. The other night I watched it again, in her honor as it were. At each silly thing I was sure I could hear her laughing, and I know I always will.