(no subject)
Meada died. She was a member of the co-op I lived at for two years in college. We roomed together a few times, including the last few months I lived there. The last time I saw her was a year ago when she visited from New Zealand, where she was becoming a veterinarian. We had a reunion and a potluck and it was so good to see her.
Meada was unlike anyone I've ever known. She had someone managed to live without any influence from pop culture. One time I mentioned Justin Timberlake to her and she had no idea who I was talking about. Because of this her actions weren't driven by any outside force, and she also didn't care much what people think. She had a knock-out body: 5'9", an hour glass figure, perfectly proportioned, and she had more body hair than most of the men I have dated. She didn't bother to shave her legs since she would have pricklies all over as soon as she was done. She had a blonde moustache as well that she did nothing about. One time we went to the yuba river and her bathing suit was a one piece with some 80's print on it that looked like it had been purchased from costco. This is where I discovered that she had absolutely no care to tend to any of her body hair. She was my hero. She gave me the courage to shave my head, and shortly after she did as well, although it wasn't her first time. Elena and Julia followed after that, and soon the four of us looked like a lesbian cult.
Meada loved to garden and she loved animals. She made an outside toilet so that she could use pee to water the plants. I always called her a hippy. When I left the co-op I had become such a self-righteous hippy that she made so much fun at me. A year ago when she visited she, Scenery and I went to a taqueria, and I was the only one that was still a vegetarian. For the most part Meada was vegan, but if she was craving some beef or chicken she'd go for it.
I had always planned on visiting Meada in New Zealand, but each year I delayed my trip. When she last visited she told me something that broke my heart. She had become friends with a girl and they bought a horse together. One day they were training the horse to get into the trailer. The friend left, and Meada decided to do a few more rounds. While backing the horse in the horse freaked out, started kicking, and broke her legs. She had to be put down. Meada's friend stopped talking to her and since Meada had met all her friends through her she now had no friends. It was heartbreaking to hear that someone so sweet with such good intentions could have a grudge like that held against her. But she moved in with her older, sugar mamma lesbian lover so I was optimistic for her.
I guess Meada was driving and stopped at a stop sign, but didn't see a truck coming down the road. It hit her driver's side and she died instantly. It is so amazing to me that one day you can be here, and the next you are gone. And I simply don't understand why someone like Meada would die when there are so many more people deserving of death. I'm sad and angry and more sad. But when I think of Meada I also get a big smile on my face, because she was so amazing and led such a great life.
My lasting memory of Meada, the one that sums up who she was as a person, was from the night we had one of our tri-co-op meetings. There were 30 or so of us sitting around in a circle, and to break the ice everyone was sharing what their favorite pair of underwear was and why. When it came time for Meada's turn, she said, "Anything black, because they don't hold stains." Everyone was super grossed out and she didn't get why. God Meada how I love you.
Meada was unlike anyone I've ever known. She had someone managed to live without any influence from pop culture. One time I mentioned Justin Timberlake to her and she had no idea who I was talking about. Because of this her actions weren't driven by any outside force, and she also didn't care much what people think. She had a knock-out body: 5'9", an hour glass figure, perfectly proportioned, and she had more body hair than most of the men I have dated. She didn't bother to shave her legs since she would have pricklies all over as soon as she was done. She had a blonde moustache as well that she did nothing about. One time we went to the yuba river and her bathing suit was a one piece with some 80's print on it that looked like it had been purchased from costco. This is where I discovered that she had absolutely no care to tend to any of her body hair. She was my hero. She gave me the courage to shave my head, and shortly after she did as well, although it wasn't her first time. Elena and Julia followed after that, and soon the four of us looked like a lesbian cult.
Meada loved to garden and she loved animals. She made an outside toilet so that she could use pee to water the plants. I always called her a hippy. When I left the co-op I had become such a self-righteous hippy that she made so much fun at me. A year ago when she visited she, Scenery and I went to a taqueria, and I was the only one that was still a vegetarian. For the most part Meada was vegan, but if she was craving some beef or chicken she'd go for it.
I had always planned on visiting Meada in New Zealand, but each year I delayed my trip. When she last visited she told me something that broke my heart. She had become friends with a girl and they bought a horse together. One day they were training the horse to get into the trailer. The friend left, and Meada decided to do a few more rounds. While backing the horse in the horse freaked out, started kicking, and broke her legs. She had to be put down. Meada's friend stopped talking to her and since Meada had met all her friends through her she now had no friends. It was heartbreaking to hear that someone so sweet with such good intentions could have a grudge like that held against her. But she moved in with her older, sugar mamma lesbian lover so I was optimistic for her.
I guess Meada was driving and stopped at a stop sign, but didn't see a truck coming down the road. It hit her driver's side and she died instantly. It is so amazing to me that one day you can be here, and the next you are gone. And I simply don't understand why someone like Meada would die when there are so many more people deserving of death. I'm sad and angry and more sad. But when I think of Meada I also get a big smile on my face, because she was so amazing and led such a great life.
My lasting memory of Meada, the one that sums up who she was as a person, was from the night we had one of our tri-co-op meetings. There were 30 or so of us sitting around in a circle, and to break the ice everyone was sharing what their favorite pair of underwear was and why. When it came time for Meada's turn, she said, "Anything black, because they don't hold stains." Everyone was super grossed out and she didn't get why. God Meada how I love you.