Delicate.

Simplicity... and to be delicate.

As I cry to my mother about the sorrow my friends are experiencing, she reminds me again of the compassion that I withhold. It's a rare gift, she proclaims, that someone of your mind set and abilities can feel so deeply for your dearest friends and to even the people you hardly know. This wasn't the first time, or the only person that has expressed this. However, I have never know what to say back to her let alone anyone else, but through my tears I knew what I had to do.

As I stared into the eyes of a mother who lost her precious son, I choked. For days I had been planning on what to say when I met the woman that raised this amazing man, but all I could release from my body was a quiet sob and how nice it was to finally meet her. She stood tall and embraced me in a warm, motherly hug, and as tears flowed down my face I felt the strength she possesses. To be as strong as her...

The sadness and new meaning of life filled around me and I couldn't help but find myself in tears. We are reminded that life isn't fair, that life is too short, and that the impact we have on each other is endless. Every act, every spoken word is of a great purpose. I'm not sure if I am making sense, but for now- all I can do is be there, the shoulder to cry on, the friend to call at midnight when the day has settled down, and the person that will no longer be worried about the small and insignificant things anymore. If I were to die tomorrow, would this matter? If I were to be gone, what will be cherished? I'm sick of speaking of carpe diem, I'm ready to live it. In honor of the man that left us so early in his life, I promise to live to the fullest and make sure that those that are left behind are loved with all my heart. My heart goes out to those that will be struggling with this for their lifetime, my heart goes out to those that knew the greatness you possessed. You are greatly missed, my friend, and here's to you. Get the party ready for when we come. We, all of us, love and miss you.

Katy.

Dum loquimur, fugerit invida
Aetas: carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero