Life is Short

Many of you already know that Kelsi Cook was killed yesterday morning about 6:45am driving up to Crystal for her job as a Search and Rescue volunteer. There aren't a lot of details, just a few circulating again and again, so I'll spare you the unsignificant things.

It's odd what little things you remember about someone, regardless of if they've died or not. Here are things I remember about Kelsi.

Kelsi and I were on the same soccer team in first grade. I forget our team name, but our shirts were maroon. But I don't remember much about her just from that. Freshman year (I know it was freshman year because a bunch of us always ate lunch outside in this one spot) she was copying the odd answers out of the back of her math book and saying, "God, I love the back of the book." I remember wishing people wouldn't say God in that context. For the record, the first time I said God in that context was when I found out Steven Ackley died. But I really didn't see Kelsi a whole lot, until these past Fall and Winter quarters at Green River. She was usually with Sheila, and we'd eat lunch together, sometimes with two of their guy friends, whose names I don't know. We talked about Norway (she went in high school, I'm going next month) and she taught me how to say, "Do you speak English" in Norwegian (I've worked on it, too; phonetically it's something like "Snakkers du Engilsk?"). We talked about Rick Steves, apparently a travel guy with a TV show, and our parents, and for some reason I remember her telling me her parents dated for something like four years before they married. I don't know why I remember that.

But mostly, I remember her voice. I remember how attentive her eyes were when you were talking. She genuinely listened and cared about the things you said. And though we didn't have a lot of memories together, I think that's a very good, decent thing to be remembered by.

While I'm sad we didn't see each other much, I'm really grateful that we talked those two or three times in the cafeteria at Green River, because those are where my most meaningful memories of her took place.

I still haven't cried yet, but I've come to learn tears don't necessarily equal grief. Everyone copes in their own ways. Last night, I sat down in the shower and tilted my head in just a way that both my ears were filled with water, and with my eyes closed, I felt like I defied existance. More importantly, I felt calm, and I felt the faint feeling of knowing that - somehow - things would be okay.

So here is the part where I preach what people always say about death: tell those you love that you love them; never take anything for granted; live today as if there were no tomorrow, because one day, there won't be. But you know what? Cliches wouldn't be popular unless they were true. And I think Kelsi's death has made this even truer. Because that could have easily been me, or my father, or my best friend. And once I started thinking about that, I began to think about things differently.

So here's to you, Kelsi. I'm sorry we didn't have more memories together, but I'm thankful I got to meet you.

Love,
Andrea