October 27, 2003

Remembering Cynthia

Today I turn thirty-one. I was going to fill today's entry with some vapid reflections on getting "older." That was before I checked my e-mail.

The first e-mail that caught my eye contained the name of a girl with whom I went to high-school. Her name was Cynthia. I remeber Cynthia as a very bright, vivacious girl, with much potencial. Her grades were consistently higher than mine (not that that was too dificult!), she was gifted academically and musically. I remember when she played her violin at a national talents competition--and recieved a standing ovation from one of the judges.

I also remember when she quoted for me an entire passage from Lewis Carrol's Alice and Wonderland.

I saw Cynthia once or twice in the years following high school. Last week I saw her father, and inquired as to her well-being. I was told that she was happily married, and serving God where she lived.

In eighth grade, we were both in our high-school production of Thorton Wilder's Our Town. Those familiar with the play know that it deals with life and death in a very unique way. I can remember standing backstage and watching the cemetery dialouge, where the dead converse among themselves about the living. I reflected then on the thought that each one of us would one be carried to the cemetery, just like the characters in the play. I would have never dreamed that Cynthia would be the first.

This morning, the e-mail said that Cynthia had died. At this point I know none of the details, other than the fact that it was a fatal car accident.

It is a sobering thing to be reminded of ones own mortality, especially on ones thirty-first birthday.

Cynthia was my age. To my knowledge, she is the first person from my class at school to be called home. I am confident that she was a believer--her testimony bore this out. Yet, she is no longer here.

Yesterday my Dad made the comment "I'm 58, and don't know how much time I have left." Well, I'm 31, and I don't know how much time I have left.

My prayers go out to Cynthia's family. I cannot imagine the grief they are going through right now.

As for me, I think that from now on, I am going to start living each day as if it were my last.

Posted by Andrew on October 27, 2003 9:16 AM.

Comments

Posted by: Deb at October 28, 2003 10:49 PM