It took me this long to write this post. Something about acknowledging a loss makes it seem more real, and this was one I wanted to wish away. Unfortunately, truth is hard and objective.
Middle school and high school can be unkind times with youth who are unkind to each other while stumbling through that transition to adulthood. Erin was not unkind, ever. That’s what stood out most about Erin, her innate kindness. The type that most of us have to work at, cultivate. Instead, Erin’s cheer and compassion was effortless and she was unique in that way.
We were in orchestra together, and in track. We bounced around in a lot of the same circles even though she was one year below mine. But she had presence even though she didn’t take up much space. She could be dynamic and serene, somehow all at the same time.
She gave me my first maxi-pad when we were in the locker room when I was in 8th grade. I thought I must’ve hurt myself. She assured me I was fine and gave me that pad without making me feel foolish. Practical and compassionate as ever.
If we could all command even a small fraction of the energy Erin did, our world would be a better place. I try to channel that ineffable quality, which to me means she persists. I try to channel her grace, which means she lives on.
I waited too long to write this post, to square the cold truth with the absolute beauty of her soul that still remains in all of us who remember her, learned from her, and honor her through our mindful deeds.
You are missed, Erin, but not forgotten. Never that.