That's the first thought that ran through my head as I sat in the office at Walgreens yesterday. Then, with sinking dread, I realized that I'd heard perfectly. It took about .035 seconds for the tears to begin to fall.
"Robin passed away this morning."
Robin Dawson. The nicest person on the face of the planet. Robin, who never hesitated to buy me a Mt. Dew when I had no money. Robin, who would sneak a few of my cheese-its, feel bad, and then buy me an entirely new box. Robin, who shared her locker with me for 8 months because mine was broken. Who always had my favorite flavor of gum under the cosmetics counter because I was the second best beauty advisor, even though my numbers paled in comparison to hers. Who thanked me every day for months because I brought her a stuffed Goofy doll back from Disney World. Who always listened to me complain about my parents, gush about my boyfriend, or bitch about my class work. She always demanded pictures of proms and Latin conventions [I took my camera to that convention only because she wanted pictures] and everything I ever did that meant nothing to me and everything to her because she wanted to have them in her locker to smile at.
How can she be dead? The world came crashing down in that moment. Every single moment I'd ever said anything negative about her covered me in a matter of milliseconds, burying me a curtain of guilt that I bore without complaint. Robin and I were so close. Everyone, and I mean everyone, myself included, had complained about Robin before. Why? Because she's so nice. Nice. How the hell is that a reason to complain about a person? I've definitely asked myself that question before. Which is why I tried not to do it. That's the reason the administration did everything they could to tell me in person. They knew Robin and I were good friends.
Robin took the job at Walgreens in order to help pay for her son's kidney transplant. She paid the last payment last month. She died before she could she her son get the kidney she paid for. How can that be fair?
Three days at Jesus camp, and this is what they throw at me? Fuck. Religion.
Robin, I'm going to miss you so much. Please forgive me for every time I ever said anything about you that wasn't of the utmost respect. I love you.
The name is Nik.
"Then, all of a sudden, something very spooky started happening. Every time I came to the end of a block and stepped off the goddam curb, I had this feeling that I’d never get to the other side of the street. I thought I’d just go down, down, down, and nobody’d ever see me again."
-Holden Caulfield, The Catcher in the Rye
That's the first thought that ran through my head as I sat in the office at Walgreens yesterday. Then, with sinking dread, I realized that I'd heard perfectly. It took about .035 seconds for the tears to begin to fall.
"Robin passed away this morning."
Robin Dawson. The nicest person on the face of the planet. Robin, who never hesitated to buy me a Mt. Dew when I had no money. Robin, who would sneak a few of my cheese-its, feel bad, and then buy me an entirely new box. Robin, who shared her locker with me for 8 months because mine was broken. Who always had my favorite flavor of gum under the cosmetics counter because I was the second best beauty advisor, even though my numbers paled in comparison to hers. Who thanked me every day for months because I brought her a stuffed Goofy doll back from Disney World. Who always listened to me complain about my parents, gush about my boyfriend, or bitch about my class work. She always demanded pictures of proms and Latin conventions [I took my camera to that convention only because she wanted pictures] and everything I ever did that meant nothing to me and everything to her because she wanted to have them in her locker to smile at.
How can she be dead? The world came crashing down in that moment. Every single moment I'd ever said anything negative about her covered me in a matter of milliseconds, burying me a curtain of guilt that I bore without complaint. Robin and I were so close. Everyone, and I mean everyone, myself included, had complained about Robin before. Why? Because she's so nice. Nice. How the hell is that a reason to complain about a person? I've definitely asked myself that question before. Which is why I tried not to do it. That's the reason the administration did everything they could to tell me in person. They knew Robin and I were good friends.
Robin took the job at Walgreens in order to help pay for her son's kidney transplant. She paid the last payment last month. She died before she could she her son get the kidney she paid for. How can that be fair?
Three days at Jesus camp, and this is what they throw at me? Fuck. Religion.
Robin, I'm going to miss you so much. Please forgive me for every time I ever said anything about you that wasn't of the utmost respect. I love you.
