A little over 3 years ago, I wrote the following entry:

Someone said to me the other day, "You look like the kind of girl who might have a tattoo." While I may look like that kind of girl, I do not, in fact, have a tattoo.

However, if they had said, "You look like the kind of girl who would return my tupperware after I sent you home with leftovers." I could have said that, yes, indeed, I am that kind of girl.

Those words were inspired by two things. First, by a rather interesting trip to the laundromat and then later that day by a friend who sent me home with leftovers. I thought of the above words a few days later when I was on my way to return her tupperware.

This past Friday, I found out that friend unexpectedly died.

My first reaction to the news was shock. I didn't know her terribly well, and I wasn't sure how or what to feel. Then I started thinking about it, and even though we weren't super close, this person still had an impact in my life. She was part of the girl biker gang, she walked me home sometimes when I didn't want to walk home by myself, and she sent me home with leftover homemade soup on my first night in my new apartment three years ago.

It seemed that everyone in the downtown community knew her, and I can only imagine that those who knew her well are experiencing feelings similar to mine, but multiplied by at least 100. This column in the Metro says it way better than I'm attempting to, "At her funeral, the motorcade should be 10 miles long."