Apparently today is a bit of a death day. In case you’re the last person in the world to hear it, Michael Jackson died today at age 50 of a heart attack. Farrah Fawcett, iconic actress from the ’70s also died today at 62 from cancer.
Yet death has been on my mind all day today for a more personal reason: it is the one year anniversary of the death of my friend, Christina Feeney, who died at age 19 of an aneurysm.
My last picture with Feeney, April 2008
The anniversary of her death has been looming in my mind for several weeks not only as an event in its own right but also as a kind of benchmark for my own life. Earlier this month, I reread the blog post I wrote on the day she died and very keenly remembered my own situation last year. This time last year I was still wracked by indecision over quitting my job, TLU was little more than a month old, and I was totally consumed with digging myself emotionally and spiritually out of the lifestyle hole I had made for myself.
The truth is, the day that Feeney died was the day I decided I had to change my life.
Maybe that is why I think about her so often. She and I were friends, but in truth I never felt closer to her than after she died. We had waitressed together and for years at an Italian restaurant here in Boston, and the entire staff of the restaurant – waitresses, bus boys, managers, and cooks – was very close. We partied together, were in each other’s business all the time, fought and made up, had affairs and scandals within the group, and still somehow managed to remain a team, both on the floor and in the back of the house.
In the context of the group, Feeney and I were friends. We would joke and banter, and in her I found someone who was bright, smart, funny, honest, and confident in herself. being around her made me feel more confident, as did her easy praise and intense loyalty. As a college student, I would waitress only during my summer and winter vacations, and Feeney was always the first one to make a big deal of my return with a huge smile, a big hug, and a delighted laugh.
Outside work and work parties, we didn’t spend time together. She was younger than I, and we both had our own circles. I don’t think I ever even had her phone number and I know for a fact I she never entered my mind outside of the Bertucci’s context. Yet in death, she has become a regular fixture in my thoughts.
I’m not sure why, though I think it has to do with the gross contrast between her vitality in life and early death. She was high energy, 24/7, whether it was happiness or anger. Mostly, I think about how wrong it is that someone with her intense spark is now under the ground. And I think about it in that literal context too – about how she is under the earth, and how dark it is down there, and I wonder what she looks like now. I remember her father crying at her funeral, and how I’ve never heard any sound more honest or more painful.
The simplest way to say it is like this: I think about Christina Feeney because her death changed my life. Her death put it all in perspective, as only a cliche of death can do. She made me understand that this doesn’t go on forever, and that at any moment we just might not be here anymore. She made me realize all the things that I wanted to do with my time, and how important it was that I do them and not just think about them.
And she made me grateful for all the things I’ve done and experienced that she’ll never get to do. My 21st birthday, graduating from college, living on my own, having a relationship with a man I really love, and even quitting my corporate job. Some people just never get to do these things, and as someone who can and does it is my responsibility not to take them for granted.
The day she died I made a promise to myself that I would change my life and live my design. Those were the words I used, which is why they are so integral to The Life Uncommon today. And now, this is a kind of sick benchmark one year later. Am I happy with my progress? Do I think I’ve lived up to my promise? Am I doing Feeney justice?
Yes. And I intend to keep on doing it and living it.
We come and we go. Whether we schedule massive world tours, have shows in London, find ourselves on popular television shows, or just make a someone smile when they come home from college. But look at the reaction to Michael Jackson’s and Farrah Fawcett’s death, and look at my reaction to Feeney’s – the point is every life, every single one of us is worthwhile, meaningful, and has the power to touch people.
And maybe this is all just a cliche. I’m not telling you anything new about life and death. This post is unvarnished, unplanned, and unedited (apologies). But what I do want to say is this. Feeney, I have no idea what has happened to you over the last year, where you are, what your body looks like today, how your family is, whether you are with Michael Jackson or Heath Ledger or no one at all. But I do know that somehow you are with me, and have stayed with me in a way I can’t explain. I miss you, and I am grateful to you for every thing you’ve done for me both in your life and your death. I hope you are proud of me.
We can’t let our lives, our power, be wasted. This is why living uncommonly is so important.
Thanks for bearing with my meandering thoughts.
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Michael Jackson is my favorite pop artist ever since i was a child. He is truly the King of Pop and i am saddened by this news.