Facebook has been instrumental in reuniting friends from long ago (as well as people we’d just rather forget) and keeping us apprised of what’s going on in their lives – you know, what new level they’re on in Mafia Wars or Farmville (yes, I’m calling myself out on Farmville), what they’re doing right. this. instant. Yesterday I logged in and saw one of my friends begging, pleading for this article to not be true. I found out that one of my friends had died through a Facebook update. Honestly, when I read the article, while I was (and still am) in shock, I wasn’t surprised that alcohol was suspected to be involved. I wasn’t even that surprised that it happened at 10:57am… I was just devastated that she succumbed to her injuries.
Julie and I hadn’t been especially close in recent years – the last time I saw her, she was plastered at a wine party held at another friend’s house. She was broken then – when she found me at the party, she immediately clung and wanted to talk to me. We caught up on the last 5 years or so in that night. She was just so excited that it was her moving weekend, she was moving out of her mom’s place and out on her own again. She was in love with her high-school sweetheart again and she believed she was finally coming out of the depression she’d been in since her father’s death (which I think was earlier that year) and the resulting DUI she’d received, which, incidentally, was why she couldn’t drive that night. I’ve been around lots of people with alcohol dependency issues – hell, I’m related to a lot of them – and I recognized the warning signs. I hoped, rather than believed, that she was right and all would be well. When I left that night, I had my friends promise to put her in a taxi to send her home. They did, of course – but not before she became belligerent and spilled the very full glass of red wine that she was clutching.
That was a couple of years ago. While our schedules didn’t allow for us to get together again (and, honestly, I wasn’t sure I wanted to be her therapist – which is what I felt like that night), we kept up with each other on Facebook, commenting on status updates, sending gifts through those Facebook apps… Now I wonder if there was something more I could do. Of course there is, but would it have been practical? Probably not.
Rest in peace, Julie. You will be missed dearly. I’ll miss your vivacious spirit and infectious smile. You’re now with your dad. *hugs*
Julie Anne Cahill
May 19, 1975 – March 28, 2010