Gone but not Forgotten

Five years ago today I stood at the threshold of a cold dark bedroom on 85-Park Drive in Boston, MA. The snow was falling outside and without any real reason I remained frozen, staring at that little flashing red light on my phone. My heart was in my throat. I think it’s been there ever since. Perhaps it’s sincere cynicism, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Perhaps it’s intuition.

Today I stood, phone in one hand and my mouse firmly attached to the other, I was frantically multitasking in betweens meetings. In a rushed tone I answered the phone, “Good afternoon Alison…” Before I could even get my last name out the voice on the other line said, “Ali it’s Marc. I’m so sorry to call you at work with this, but Katie Hewson was in an accident.” I clumsily searched for my chair behind me. I needed to sit down. My heart previously in my throat was now flush against my molars.

“Marc, are you telling me Katie is dead?” He finished detailing the accident and said, “Yes, Katie is dead.” What the fuck????!!! Today holds a new sadness for me. Robbed of two great women on the same day, five years apart. I fail to see the logic here; God knows I’d really like to.

To make matters worse Mark had forwarded me an article regarding Katie Hewson’s death. They dated the accident on February 8th at 6:00pm. Katie was pronounced dead at 8:00pm. Perhaps it’s my own sensitivity, but the article literally made me sick. I decided in light of this news it was best if I left work a little early.

Maybe I’m angry at my losses, maybe I’m confused by fate. I really want to believe things happen for a reason, I really want to see the big picture. I want to put faith in something bigger then myself, but I just can’t. Maybe once a little more time has passed.

I remember when I met Katie Hewson, I had just moved into the YMCA for my first year at Northeastern University. They had run out of dorms on campus so all the transfer students were staying on the two top floors of the Y on Huntington Ave. That was truly an experience. We shared the elevator bank with the regular residents (Families in Transition). The bank was divided by a flimsy gate. It made the morning commute to classes both interesting and awkward. Though we were frequently awakened by our neighbors setting the building on fire, I miss that place. I miss the people.

Katie was one of the fist people I met there. She had the best sense of humor and the biggest smile of anyone I’ve ever met. Her klutziness may have in fact superceded my own, but she always found a way to make it a strength. It’s a great of sign of character to be able to laugh at yourself. Katie was just like that. Last week I was just thinking I needed to get in touch with her and see how life in St. John was treating her. Now it is too late for that.

This is just another reminder that I can’t put off things I really want. My priorities might be a little different than some but at the end of the day if I’m not here I want to go out knowing I did what I wanted. I worked towards my dream. Everything else is really moot. While I was busy watching the Anna Nicole Smith special report, my friend was taking her last breath. As the light in her eyes was slowly extinguished, I took my own for granted.

Today and hence forth, the sun shines a little less brightly, the world spins slightly off its axis and words have lost a little of their luster. We have lost two wonderfully amazing human beings, five years apart.

Note to the departed,
Since your stories were tragically cut short, I will have to finish writing them, I’ll keep going for all three of us, I promise.

Thank you, thank you both wherever you are tonight.

Katie Elizabeth Svitek
Kathleen Hewson