When the Last Time is Really the Last...
Very few times in life do we know when the last time is truly the last time. And that's probably for the best. But then again, maybe not.
The last time I saw Adrienne Dunning, alive, was the weekend in May we went to a signing in South Carolina together. A little over two months later, she would die in a tragic house fire. There were 5 of us, 4 now, that have been each other's friend and support group in this crazy writing life we've chosen. Individuals with only this one thing in common. We took that one thing, being an Indie author, and grew it from there. Eventually, we added a love of travel, pizza, corny Jake from State Farm jokes, etc. The list goes on and on. We had each other's backs in a world that could be a bit tough at times.
That last time, the 5 of us shared hotel rooms, meals and drinks, chats in the sun, a fabulous pedicure, and some late nights. And we took pictures! Thank goodness we took pictures. It would be the last chance we had to do so with the 5 of us. If I had known, I would have taken a thousand more. And I never would have let go of her.
When Adrienne's sister called me on the morning of July 5th, I had one of those chilling moments of premonition. I had never met Angela, and I knew to the marrow of my bones there wasn't any good reason for calling me. I sat in my office and listened to her soft, halting voice while screaming NO! in my mind. Adrienne was gone. I would never see her again. There wouldn't be anymore travel or signings or writing retreats.
I've been meaning to write this blog post since right after she died. I could not make myself do it. even though I knew she was gone. Writing this makes it more final. Somehow... Life is fleeting, even when the days seem to stretch forever. Don't take anything for granted. They never warn you when the last time is really the last time.