I was silently cursing myself as soon as I woke up and looked at my alarm clock: 8:33am. I was going to get up and have a couple hour ride before I headed out to Kelowna for the weekend,
When I started digging around my head for what was causing the extra heartache, I rewound back into time for just a bit and then I remembered. Today is four years.
Four years ago today I got an email from a friend informing me that Emma had died in a car accident in London. I remember flying downstairs, old laptop in hand, telling my Mum. I remember sitting on the phone, the computer, the rest of the day trying to find out details. Emma, Emma, could it really be true? Could you really be gone?
Emma and I spent our most quality years together at St. Albert Children's Theatre. In fact, quite frankly, most of my best memories of SACT somehow include Emma. My high school experience, and indeed a large part of my teens, is filled with Emma's smiling face.
Emma, driving around her Mum's huge blue SUV with rap music playing loud. Emma, with her loud, mouth gaping open laugh that came in airless spurts. Emma, wearing her Oilers jersey at every game day. Emma the dancer, Emma the athlete, Emma the actress. Sleep overs with Emma, Katie, Jenna and Allison. Pre show, post show, endless rehearsals. I remember one time driving to The Mall in Edmonton between shows in Emma's car. Her and I talked the whole way to the mall, and only when we arrived did Katie come out of the back of the SUV, freezing (it was an abnormally hot day in Edmonton). She had iced out Katie with the A/C in the back, and when she found out she laughed until she cried. She was the funniest person I ever knew.
Each year since Emma's passing I have tried to do something small to honour her and the beautiful impact she had on my life. I've had grand and not-as-grand gestures. For this year, this is it. Emma, girl, who knows if you were here what you'd be up to. I hope we'd still be in touch. You were a positive, beautiful, bold ray of light in my life. Thank you for being part of my memories.