One last time

True story.

I once knew a girl from college who was a true Southern bell. She lived next door in my freshman dorm. We became friends sometime mid-year.

She could be jubilant for ordinary reasons, like no one I've ever met. Kindness came easily to her. We were on the crew team together for almost a year. She was everyone's doll.

She had complex issues in her life, that neither you nor I, God forbid, will ever face, but it was quickly apparent that the friendship she offered was uncomplicated.

A little less than a month ago, I found out some heartbreaking news.

The girl had passed away just after fulfilling one of her dreams: meeting actor Chris North (aka Mr. Big from Sex in the City) in, where else, New York City.

And as the realization hit me, my thoughts immediately went to all the times in the past that I had told myself to write, call, send a Facebook message, or even text a "hey." We'd fallen out of touch the last year or so of college. But in my mind, there would always be another time to really catch up with her, to make minor amends for having let our friendship fall by the wayside. I wasn't hurt - I didn't think she was hurt (I hoped, at least). We had just disconnected.

Since hearing of her death, I've had a tugging feeling of regret. I am sorry.

Then last night, I fell asleep. I hadn't been thinking about my friend in a few days, but she appeared in my dream. I was standing in line somewhere - an airport or a department store - when I saw someone coming up to me and realized it was her.

Before I got out a word of apology, she just hugged me.

And then my alarm woke me up.