I think I was 11 years old the first time an important male figure in my life died. Garth. I spoke to him on the phone knowing full well that he was going to die, but all my stunted brain could think of to say was "take care of yourself." Famous last words.

I was 15 when my grandfather passed. He had cancer. I was grief stricken and near hysterical over his withering body. Momma whisked me out of that room and took me to someplace safe and alive.

I was 17 when Jody was trampled to death on the streets of Lan Kwai Fong in Hong Kong. I visited that very street corner as many times as I could in years to come and sat where I thought he died, scared and gasping, trying to breathe him in.

I became convinced that the more people I met, the more would die. I didn't know how true this would hold.

At 21, Uncle Arthur, the man who pledged to walk me down the aisle with my dad passed away 6 months after he was diagnosed with cancer. Everyday became a battle of irrational fears as I lived in constant fear of losing one. more. person.

At 25, Paul, the first boy I was engaged to (at 21) was killed in a motorcycle accident outside the place I still get my groceries at today. He had just taken me for a ride the month before. I couldn't go to his funeral. I knew it would break me to look in his coffin, even if I wasn't in love with him anymore. I still close my eyes when I drive past Wegman's.

29 seems to be a spectacular year for death. Matt killed himself. I blogged about it before and put up the chatty obligatory post about happy memories. A big fat lie, given he and his brother and their roommate had a huge impact on the female I am today. "They tortured you, honey," was what a friend said to me last Friday. But we don't speak ill of the dead. Matt was tortured enough himself.

And today, 2 more to add to my list. 1 young Ben Govendo, who used to make me laugh in Saipan with his endless stories in all the perfect accents, and 1 aging Bruno, who squeezed my knee and called me beautiful and taught me piano when I was 5, 25, and this last time 29.

May your souls walk on the beaches of Saipan at sunset. It's the closest thing to heaven I know.