Gone

I told you: I don't have friends. I have family, genetic and non-genetic. Jacqués Brown is family.

When I met Jacqués, he was still in middle school. He was this laid back, li'l, stocky kid with an electric smile. Jacqués is younger than my li'l sister. But, it didn't really matter. He was always in the mix with the guys my age and older. He wasn't a pest, though.

I always greeted Jacqués with: "Wassup, Jacque?" I did that because it reminded me of Bugs Bunny. He knew. He didn't care. He was always cool. When Kevin was in trouble, or when Eric was being Eric, I could look at Jacque and roll my eyes and we'd both laugh. But, he wasn't a mean kid.

Jacque could dance, too. Jacque broke out with the jit at my brother's graduation party and my jaw dropped. Kid was NICE wit' it.

I'm numb. I just saw Jacqués in May. He was fighting a respiratory infection. He was annoyed by some of the things he was dealing with professionally and personally, but he was still easy with that grin of his. We parted with a promise to stay in touch and we did through Facebook and, more rarely, phone calls.

The last enemy struck again.

Goodbye, my brother. I'll miss you.

Tina Rivers

Tina was smart. Her conversation was always intelligent. Her voice was kind of earthy, always feminine but a little deep. It was sexy.

Tina was always a lady. She had a huge heart. She worked for a non-profit organization in New Orleans. She was professional and focused. Then, she'd get annoyed and say something about somebody getting on her nerves that was so profane. I'd always pause and replay the sounds I'd just heard to be sure that she'd said what I thought she said. Then, she'd giggle that Betty Rubble giggle.

Tina would get down sometimes. Then, she'd remember that she'd survived a miracle. That'd get her past a lot of the petty bullshit that office professionals deal with on a daily basis. Tina survived leukemia as a teenager. She'd received a bone marrow transplant and had a full remission. As far as she was concerned, life was too short to stay upset about a lot of the things we deal with.

Still & always, I miss you, Tina.

Tina got the sniffles. Then, she kept the sniffles. I nagged her like a li'l bitch about going to the doctor for two months before she went. She finally went to see the doctor. Her leukemia had come roaring out of remission. She was Stage 3, moving into Stage 4, already. She fought her leukemia, too. She fought it and did not give up. The Last Enemy won this battle, though.

Christina Rivers is my friend. Her death does not, will not, and cannot change that. This is not her birthday. This is not the anniversary of her death. I was just thinking about my friend today and I wanted to talk about her. She taught me to value the time that I have. She made me laugh at a time in my life when I didn't have much to smile about. She was a better friend to me than I realized for those lessons alone.