Des was also there at seventh grade volleyball tryouts. It would be a good guess that Des was at any tryout. She won athlete of the year at both our elementary and high school graduations. Basketball, volleyball, golf, ultimate frisbee- you name the sport and she’ll be there.
Except soccer, I say almost crying.
Des is the other part of
“The Three Musketeerettes,” as we so lamely called ourselves when we were kids. Me, Mar and Des would go on every ride at Canada’s Wonderland, ride our bikes across neighborhoods and sleep in a tent in the backyard together.
Over the years, we’ve seen our group get bigger and smaller; but in the end, it’ll always be us three.
Des can only be called what my 16 year old journal entry describes as “a glimmering beacon of hope.” Even at 16 years old, I would describe her as that first gasp of fresh air after your nose is clogged. The one that makes you swear you’ll never take something as simple as breathing through two nostrils for granted ever again.
Daniel’s death is not the first storm in my life Des has rescued me from. When we were younger, I experienced what at the time I wrote as “my darkest hours.”
Girl, you don’t even know what’s coming.
I was consumed with a sadness that almost completely overtook me. This is another reason Daniel and I were created from the same stardust. We both carry the same darkness inside of us.
But I always found it interesting that Des’ full name is Desiree; rooted from the word desire. That’s what Desiree does- she ignites the desire in you to move forward. I never forget where my spark comes from.
I’ve only ever trusted the sacred pages of my journal to two people. Daniel and Des. That should speak for itself. I’m very much a “Listen to what people do” type of person.
When Daniel dies, I will again face the same battle with the part of my mind that makes me feel guilty to see my friends.
After I slowly loosen the shackles that I had placed on myself, I would see Des. I saw all my friends one-on-one before ever considering a group scenario.
When I see Des again, she will tear up and ask how I could move out of our childhood neighbourhood and not tell her. I told her the move was, as all other things were at the time, meaningless to me.
I only learned my new address because a cop pulled me over once and later escorted and admitted me to the mental health unit of the hospital. That’s a story for its own blog post.
Des will ask to sing our duet with the ukulele, but I will refuse. This is exactly what I had feared. My friends missed the duet- singing, always laughing version of me.
She died with Daniel.
But Des would be patient
Des would be kind
Des would slowly help me ease my mind
Des was the light that would guide me home.
Always with love,
Your Duet Partner
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