Daniel and I went to a funeral yesterday afternoon. It was for Morgan, a girl that Daniel went out with for a while when they were teenagers. She was 32, and she lived in Witchita, Kansas, and she was thrown from a horse and hit her head and died in the helicopter on the way to the hospital.
I'm not sure I had ever met her - she was part of the Disneyland semi-goth gang that Dan used to run with in his teenage years, so it's possible I had met her in passing. I'm not even sure how long she and Daniel were involved with each other, but an ex-girlfriend is still a chunk of one's life, no matter how tiny, and now she is gone. She had a husband, brothers, parents, friends.
I cried and cried, all through the service. We mostly went because Dan's friend Amber was very upset about Morgan's death (they had been close as teenagers and had re-connected online, like so many of us) and Dan wanted to be there for Amber. But I'm fresh back from Montana, where so many ghosts live now (Dad, Aunt Marilyn, Uncle Niles) and a funeral was just too much for me. Dan was pretty stoic, but I know he felt sorrow too.
This is the sort of thing that makes me think a lot about the past. I think I only have two exes that I wish never to see again. I'm back in touch with two of my great teenage loves on Facebook, and I'm really, truly happy to see that they have grown up into handsome men with happy marriages and apparently good lives. I value them and I value all of my friends past and present. It's such a cliche, but this makes me resolve to maintain contact with all of you whom I love.