I died June 27, 2004. The ink barely had time to dry on my degree when I decided to travel out west. For years, I told myself as soon as I received that degree, I would do something big to celebrate, commemorate my accomplishment. Being the first in my family to go full time to a four-year college, and graduate, certainly was a huge deal and I deserved to congratulate myself. So I did. And it killed me.
A couple of hikers found my body in a tangled mess with my bike in some low brush up in the mountains near Ketchum, Idaho. Heading down my final stretch of trail for the day, I lost control of my bike. Heading downhill, my momentum was already working against me. I flew over my bike and slid down the gravel-covered trail, and I went right over the edge of a cliff.
Some say I should have known better. I suppose they�re right; I should have known better. Twelve years of Girl Scouts must not have sunk into my head very well, or I would have thought twice about tackling the trails out west by myself. Everything I learned about mountain biking started back in scouts. Heck, they even teach you the buddy system back in elementary school. You�d have thought all of this was burned into my brain. Well, it is; I just chose not to pay attention to any of it. If I had listened to any of it, what would be the fun and adventure in my little excursion? I didn�t want anyone else holding me back.
I�ve always been that stubborn. Even way back in high school, I wanted everything done my way. Why else do you think I was class president both my junior and senior years? Sure, I wanted to be involved and I knew the job was a huge responsibility, so I made sure it was done right by taking it over myself. Once I made it to Oakland University, I became involved there as well. My second year in college, I entered Sigma Tau Delta, the International English Honors Society. Once in, I became increasingly involved, eventually acting as president my last year. I�m still surprised I took all that on.
Now that I am gone now, there are a few things I am going to miss. I know my book collection will quickly gather dust in my absence. While it wasn�t all that impressive, it took me years to build up my collection. Each book is important to me in its own way. Unfortunately, I know those books won�t be important to anyone in my life. The same thing goes for my clarinet. I spent years with my wood clarinet, won many blue medals with it, performed many beautiful pieces with it. I�ll never forget performing the first movement of Brahms Sonata for Clarinet in E Flat major. It still gives me chills thinking about how amazing that piece is. It makes me sad to know that my family will end up selling it.
And then there all those websites I created. I spent hours and hours creating, designing, and updating those sites. Those sites were the one thing that actually made me feel creative. I left them to collect dust as well, so to speak, floating around cyber space as I last left them.
It is very difficult to think about how everything that ever meant anything to me in my life will end or be lost in the near future. I know I shouldn�t dwell on such materialistic things: my books, my clarinet, my websites. There are people in my life whom I loved dearly, and loved me as well, that I should be remembering and missing. But, it�s sad to know I spent my lifetime accomplishing these things and now, after my death, they will go unrecognized.