When do you stop feeling pain?

The five year anniversary of my last visit with Kelly-Anne is fast approaching. Sometimes the pain of her death is as raw as it was in the weeks and months that followed her murder.

In the summer of 2004, I had just moved to Washington and Kelly-Anne had just moved into the apartment with Marty. When I went home in early August to move my stuff down to DC I visited with Kell several times. She was SO excited about her new apartment and new appliances. I remember being surprised to see that Kell had a new fridge and stove and washer and dryer. Kelly-Anne was unbelievably careful with her money and this must been one of the biggest purchases she ever made. I was stunned, however, when I saw she had also purchased an expensive looking stereo. When I commented to her that it was out of character, she said Marty had wanted it. I was surprised, but said nothing more.

She had picked out all sorts of paint colours for her walls. In true Kelly-Anne fashion, they were bright and colorful. And there had to be at least six different colors throughout the apartment. (I sometimes wonder if the kitchen of the apartment is still bright yellow?)

We had fun together during that week that I was home. We laughed and talked and acted silly as we always did when we were together. We were both excited for the future: Kelly-Anne was heading to Italy in a month for the lifeguarding comeptition, and I was heading back to DC to begin a new job.

I had no way of knowing then that I'd never see Kell alive again. I wish I had spent more time with her, told her what a good friend she really was. I don't have any siblings and Kelly-Anne was the closest thing to a sister I'd ever have.

We didn't always see eye to eye and we didn't always have the same outlook on life. But we loved each other deeply and saw each other though thick and thin for nearly twenty years.

I doubt I'll ever have another friend like Kelly-Anne...