I walked in the front door of my house, anticipating a surprise from my parents. I was home for Christmas vacation after a crazy semester in college and treacherous finals. My mom had been acting weird on the phone the last couple of times I talked to her. I was thoroughly convinced she was keeping something from me like a new scooter or my brother was in town. I called back to my roommate as she dropped me off, “I will let you know the minute I find out!” I threw my stuff in the entryway and looked up at my mom with excitement. “Hey what’s going on?” “My mom hurriedly glanced down as she took a deep breath, “Kimberley, I have something to tell you. There was a terrible accident. Carri was in a car accident. She didn’t make it. Carri passed away.” Instantly dazed I flippantly replied, “Carri? What Carri?” My mom cocked her head in surprise, “Kimberley, your Carri. Your best friend!” Denial set in immediately. I shook my head back and forth trying to say no, but the only thing that came out was, “I don’t have a Carrie. Not one that would be dead.”
The first time I met her we were 13 years old. I remember exactly what she was wearing-jeans and a white flowered jean jacket. I remember thinking, that girl is short. And shy. Extremely shy. I could tell she was uncomfortable with herself by the way she kind of tucked her head down and tried to avoid eye contact at all costs. We were complete opposites. I was loud and attention needy to her timid and quiet demeanor. Over the next seven years we would form a unique friendship. Sometimes we were close as sisters, other times we lived in our own separate worlds checking in every once in awhile but not really having to connect all the time.
Her family was as dysfunctional as mine but sometimes it was more fun to be around other’s craziness than your own. Her dad was an alcoholic who would start drinking the minute he got off work. By the time dinner was over he was pretty wasted. He would go outside in the backyard and play songs on his guitar. Carri and I would sit and listen to him for hours. Our favorites were his renditions of James Taylor and John Denver. Her step mom Becky always went out of her way to make me feel better. If I got into a fight with my parents I would literally run away to their house. Becky never lectured me on being a sassy teenager or took sides. She knew I was hurting and would buy me Oreo cookies, chocolate milk, and something Garfield. Carri’s younger brother, Adam, had just turned one when I first started hanging out with the family. (He is 30 now)
My mom grabbed my arms as to physically shake me back into reality. “Kimberley, Carrie is gone.” I stepped back and recoiled from her touch. My skin crawled at her intrusion of trying to force me into believing what she was saying. My mind went numb. Shock ran through every muscle fiber in my body slowly turning off any feelings that were trying to push through. My soul was rejecting the authenticity of my mom’s statement. Without any emotion, I announced, “I am going to go take a shower.” Puzzled my mom slowly repeated back, “A shower? Are you okay? Do you need me to do something?” No, I just need to take a shower. Robotically, I went through the motions of an act I had done a thousand times before, my body on cruise control. My mind was shut off not even trying to process the last fifteen minutes. Darkness crept in and I screamed for my mom. She rushed in, “What, what’s wrong?” I jolted back to my state of shock and replied, “Nothing, I just want you to sit in here with me.” I had briefly glimpsed the horror of reality and my psyche had quickly devoured further exploration of the truth.
After my shower I knew I had to go to Carri’s house and see her family. I have often tried to remember what I was thinking or feeling during that ten-minute drive…I felt...nothing, absolutely nothing. I walked up to the door and before I could knock, her family threw open the door. Like an injured animal I looked into her dad’s eyes begging him to release me from this anguish by simply saying, “Kimberley there is no truth to this story. Carri is fine.” Adam, her then seven-year-old brother threw his arms around me crying, “Kimberley, Carri is dead! Did you know Carri is dead? Does this mean you are going to be my sister?” I crumbled in the doorway; uncontrollable sobs tore through my body piercing through the shock. For the first time I felt the veil of denial slowly start to disintegrate. Seeing her family made this terrifying situation all too real.
Only four months before we were sitting outside at her house in our usual spots listening to Rick, her dad, play the guitar. She glanced up at me and out of the blue said, “Kimberley if I died would you want my car?” Jokingly I replied,” Are you kidding that thing is a piece of junk give it to Bernice she needs a car.” “Would you want my stereo?” Again I blew her off, “No, Adam is attached to that you would have to give it to him.” She persisted on, “Well what would you like of mine if I died?” “Carri, why are you talking like this? We are only twenty years old. We are not going to die for a long time. I don’t want anything of yours.” “You never know Kimberley,” she huffed, “but I do know exactly how I want my funeral.”
More than slightly annoyed I told her, “I am not going to have this conversation with you anymore, Carri. This is silly you are being so morbid.” She sarcastically shot back, “You are my best friend you don’t want anything of mine if I died and you don’t want to even listen to what I would want?” I never liked to see her upset so I gave in. “Fine how would you like your funeral to go?’ Over the next hour Carri gave me explicit details from her favorite flowers, to what she wanted to wear, the songs, the singers, where and who should get all her stuff, if she should happen to die. I listen with half an ear wondering where all of this is coming from and why on earth she felt like she needed to talk about all of this. We were only twenty! The next morning as I was getting in my car to drive back up to college, she gave me a card. I didn’t have a chance to read it until I a few days later. The card was titled Its So Hard To Say Goodbye. I thought it was a pretty intense card to give me since I was just a few hours away but I chalked it up to Carri being dramatic.
......“She was driving down to Douglas to visit her boyfriend. She was in the passenger seat of an old car that didn’t have shoulder belts only a lap belt. The car popped a tire and the lady who was driving lost control of the car and jumped onto the medium. The car flipped over a few times and since Carri didn’t have her seat belt on half her body went out of the car. As the car rolled it crushed her. When the paramedics got there she was still alive…she was moaning.”
Again I tried to reject all of this information. I knew this couldn't be true because Carri always wore her seat belt. Always! In fact she was constantly getting on to me because I didn’t wear mine. She would not have ridden in a car without putting on her seat belt If they got this part of the story incorrect maybe the other part, like that she is dead, was wrong. They are mistaken, she is not dead! "Kimberley, the driver said right before the tire popped, Carri had commented on how safe she felt in the car because it was so old and big. She felt so safe that since the car didn’t have a shoulder belt she wouldn’t wear the lap belt either. What’s the point? Right? Older cars are made of steel. Oh, by the way we think the driver was high on cocaine but we can’t really prove it because the police didn’t take her blood at the scene."
I mumbled this can't be true, it doesn't make any sense. "We have a ticket for you to fly with us to Ohio where we will bury her. We leave at 6 am. So you need to go home and pack. Kimberley are you getting this? We leave at 6 am tomorrow okay?" "Okay?" No I am not okay!!! Will I ever be okay again? Will anything ever be okay? I just lost my best friend….she was only 20!!
I buried my best friend in Ohio on December 19, 1992. I flew back to Tucson a few days later and celebrated her 21st birthday, Christmas Eve, without her.....
