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From: Laura
Date: 10 Nov 2000
Time: 00:56:01
Remote Name: 216.119.161.88
A few years ago, Wendy's close friend committed suicide. Sadly enough, this is all the tragedy I thought the Solteros would ever have to contend with. It was a tough week, especially since Wendy was inconsolable. Her close friends stuck with her all week at all hours to provide support. This, of course, created all sorts of adventures. Although we were primarily mourning, I am still able to look back on those days with fond memories. For example, I believe each and every night that week, we occupied the rear section of IHOP. It started out with five crying, coffee-gulping, chain smoking high schoolers, and kids would come and go until at one point there were over a dozen of us. The waitresses, who knew Wendy and our group since we did "homework" there all the time, were very good to us. They didn't even complain when we ordered ice water with a side of lemons and lots of sugar, to make Cheapskate Lemonade. You know we told everyone who had ears all about Colin and our sadness. Our mourning had to be dramatic and all encompassing, Wendy style. That first night after over 7 hours at IHOP, four or five of us spent the night in the Solteros study all sleeping together in a bundle. The next night, after IHOP, we all talked for hours on the dock by the lake, until somebody woke up, realizing the we had all dozed off despite the cool night air. We created songs, drew, sketched, and painted, reminisced and bonded. We were alternately mournful, angry, fond, doleful and bitter. There were long car drives, angry words shouted at the clouds, and curls of cigar smoke through the sunroof. Wendy and I were even reprimanded for attempting to douse our sorrow with whiskey. These things have been floating around in my head lately because I feel like I am having deja vu. Almost. At hearing the news about Wendy, the same group gathered together for support as each of us went through different stages of shock, disbelief, and realization. We were stirring up memories, feeling cheated, sleeping in bundles, and, now legal, drowning our sorrows somewhat. As I pondered the common thread of the group, I figured out that the glue that bound us was indeed Wendy herself. As well as we were able to provide solace for one another, Wendy's absence was sorely noted. However, I would like to express gratitude for having her friends to turn to. Thanks, Wendy. Besitos!