You Deserve To Be Remembered

Rachel was fun and sweet. Quiet and somewhat seemingly reserved, underneath it all Rachel usually had an opinion - and it was sure to be said at the right place, at the right time - sometimes eliciting shock, and also echoing laughs from this mysterious girl.

Rachel was the epitome, to me, of cool. Not in a traditional sense, but she remained cool as a cucumber in most situations. Type B and laid back, she was always down for anything. She was usually smart enough too, that if she chose to do something illicit, she wouldn’t get caught. A silent rebel child dripping with mischievous allure.

While these were some of her best qualities, they were also her worst. It made it easy for her to backslide into numbing her pain instead of facing it head-on. The amount of trauma one can shoulder is subjective, but when life deals you the amount Rachel had, it was objectively too-fucking-much; like being asked to squeeze lemonade from gravel.

Drugs were an escape. Theft was a way to replenish the need when there was nothing left. I rarely talked to her about it, but it was clear that she didn’t really want to be doing these things. I don’t think most addicts do. There was shame wrapped up into this fantasy tale she’d tell herself and everyone else about just being young and trying new things. An addiction? At 19? It couldn’t be. A way that most of us tend to justify actions we feel we shouldn’t be doing in our youth, but still do.

For this, Rachel lost a lot. These things are no secret, which is why I write them now. I don’t pretend to have known her intimately, nor do I pretend to have known her recently. Truth be told, she was quite elusive to most of the world. Most people dealing with vast amounts of pain are.

What I will say, though, is that regardless of Rachel’s choices, her past, and the things which were beyond her control, she deserves to be remembered. Humans are communal creatures. When the trusted community surrounding us is lacking, or worse, abusive - something is deeply corrupted within us. Our ability to love is fractured - primarily, our ability to love ourselves is the most broken. How we chose to deal with that is part of our life’s journey, and for the most part, nobody else’s business.

What I can and will do is share with you what I remember about Rachel.

I was twenty and she was nineteen; two very young women just trying to make ends meet, and make sense of the rotting lemons we’d inherited. Initially, I had met Rachel through my cousin, but never got to know her better until we both began working at Arby’s in the late 2000’s.

Both of us struggled with our traumas, but in different ways. I loved to drink. Rachel loved to feel numb. I guess at the end of the day, so did I. Alcohol works in that way. But both of us also had great compassion for others. Addicts are still people; and they are people first.

Rachel and I would laugh daily. Though I may not see her for long, I wouldn’t catch her without a smile at least once. We both muddled through life the best way we knew how, and when we were together in these short moments, we did it with a smile.

Rachel was quite compassionate. She would give free food to those in need, despite the fact that she could lose her job. She was kind to children; another indicator of how sensitive a person is to compassion. Rachel could inhabit and enjoy the moment; something which has eluded even the most enlightened of us all. Rachel embraced the silly, and embodied life as it was. Day by day, moment by moment, Rachel showed up in the ways it counts.

Yes, my friend Rachel struggled for a long time with addiction. But my friend Rachel was also so, so much more than an addict. Rachel was a daughter, a sister, a mother, a companion, and a friend. A human; one who felt things deeply. So deeply, in fact, that some days it was just a little too much. And that is okay. We are all only human.

In the end, I think she would’ve wanted to be remembered in love. With love, from a space of love, with love still left in her heart to give. Loving her one and only son. Remembered from and in a space of love.

I will remember her forever this way; forcing a ‘I’m-gonna-kill-you-for-taking-a -picture-of-me-all-gross-like-this’ smile as I jumped out with my flip-camera phone. I will remember her as calm, curious, and compassionate. A friend whom with one could easily pass the time. A friend with whom, if nothing else, you could laugh at the absurdity of life itself.

Rest in peace, Rachel Holder. I honor your life today on the first anniversary of your passing, and I honor you with love.