This week I learned of the death of one of my classmates. I can't refer to her as a 'friend' because I never was her friend. Not because she wasn't open to that, but because I was a bitch.
A couple of years ago I wrote this: Joke of the Week If you don't want to read it, the cliff note version is that I was awful to some kids in Jr. High School. I used to write a gossipy newspaper-ish thing and in it would include my Joke of the Week. Sometimes that Joke was simply someone else's name. And once it was hers: Kimberly Murphy.
And now she's gone.
I saw her on Facebook a few years back and I could have friended her, but I didn't. I spent much more time deliberating over this than anyone possibly ever should of. I mean, it's Facebook for God's sake. But I did deliberate because I felt so hypocritical and guilty for how I had treated her. Even though I didn't perpetually torment her, I did find moments where I could sneak in a quick barb behind her back to ensue laughs from the other kids. I was totally prostituting myself for the attention at her expense. Now, some 30 years later, I'm going to emerge from a past long forgotten and say "hey! how's it going! remember me?" No, that felt all types of wrong.
You see I wasn't a mean kid. Not at my core. I was actually a super sweet kid. In elementary school there wasn't an underdog I didn't stand up for. I raised money for kids in Haiti - door to door like a salesman. I organized a neighborhood litter clean up. I captured injured birds and animals and brought them home to nurse back to health. I physically hurt when I'd witness someone else enduring emotional pain and I stood up to my grandmother when she spouted off some racist remark. I was a nice kid. I wasn't religious, but I loved Jesus so much - just from his turn the other cheek and love one another messages. I identified with all the lovable underdogs in every movie and every show I saw. I believed in hope and magic and my favorite shows were Lassie and Little House on the Prairie. I was a nice kid.
So what happened?
I can't blame my family, other kids... I can't blame anybody really. Just know that I was too sensitive to endure the taunting I received. I wasn't brave enough to face the criticism from my peers. I wanted approval, to fit in, to be part of a crowd that seemed to walk on socially acceptable water. I was pretty, though I didn't know it, but not pretty enough anyway. I didn't have the body, the cool clothes, the athleticism to reach the status I was trying to achieve. I found, by accident, that what the kids did like was catty humor. So that's what I went with at the expense of the real me.
You'd think all that would fade into some 'no regrets' history and my adult self would just get on with things, but this 'friending' of Kimberly weighed on my mind from time to time. I thought I should reach out to her. She's human for heaven's sake, she's probably lovely and interesting. But where to start?
How about an apology?! I came so close to doing it that I literally just checked my history to see if I'd actually ever sent that. I hadn't. Now I remember! I thought hard about this one too. Should I tell her I was such an asshat and it was inexcusable and she never did anything wrong or mean or deserving of even one unkind word? The angel on my shoulder said I should send it. I should let her know that I consider her now, even though I did not do that then, and that I am ashamed of my behavior and that she was always nothing less than sweet to me. Maybe I'd tell her I would like to get to know her now. .... but I didn't send that. The social director on my other shoulder suggested she might not have even known I was awful to her and that confessing my sins would only result in hurt feelings that she hadn't already experienced. I'd like to say now that the Social Director won out in the end, but in truth I have a feeling my decision was made by less noble influences. Shame most likely.
 |
| For you, Kim. |
And now she's gone.
I pray she had a happy life. I pray she knew love. I pray her family is blessed with memories so dear they somehow diminish the pain of her loss. And I pray that the next time I feel like I might want to say something - I'm sorry, or I love you, or just to tell someone I like their shoes or the way they smile or that they are just wonderful - I won't think twice.
kec
