The Reply That Never Came

Remembering My friend Lauren

On February 4^th, I was scrolling on Facebook and came across a post on my long-time friend Lauren’s page that began with the words, “I have some heartbreaking news.” I thought, “Oh no, what is she going to share? What happened?” She is a huge animal lover and the first thing my mind jumped to was that maybe something happened to one of her beloved dogs.

But the next line read “Lauren died Wednesday night.”

The post continued: “I am so sorry to those of you who loved her. I am sorry if you are finding this out for the first time on social media. You deserved a phone call.”

It went on to explain that there may be an obituary or service at a future date and invited all to share kind words or memories in the comments. That was written by her boyfriend who lived with her, sharing how much he will miss her and how amazing her life was. He named all the places she’d lived, worked, the bands she was in, a couple funny stories, many of the brave things she did in life, her love for animals, and how she was very sick for the last part of her life.

I never knew she was sick. It was absolutely shocking to come across a post like this. What if I hadn’t seen it? I wouldn’t even know she’d passed. I can’t imagine having to write that as her boyfriend, bless his heart. In my book I share that ‘death is not an anomaly,’ and while that is true, finding out that someone you love has died is always shocking. Especially finding out in this way. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that she is no longer on this Earth. She was one of my most favorite people. This doesn’t even seem real.

Knowing that someone you love is now in a new reality, experiencing the way things really are, is a something I still find difficult to grasp. What is she experiencing? I’d love to know, yet I know I will someday.

After she moved in the early 2000s, Lauren and I occasionally caught up over the phone or through messenger. I still have three voicemail messages she left me over the years, and I’m so grateful I kept them.

Here is one of my favorites:

The last correspondence we shared was in June when she received the signed copy of my book she requested (I wrote about her in my book, as she played an important role at a very difficult time in my life - she was my candle in the darkness.) When she received it, she messaged me saying, “Wow! I can’t even put into words and I’m only on page 9. This has let me have a wonderful breakthrough.”

I’m beyond grateful that my words could touch her before she returned home. In December, I messaged her wishing her a Happy Birthday. She saw it—but never replied. I will forever miss the reply that never came.

I’d like to tell you a little bit about my friend Lauren…

Lauren and I met at Burt’s Tiki Lounge in Salt Lake City in the late ‘90s, when our nights revolved around music and the local scene. We became instant friends and were truly kindred spirits—we both played bass, loved music, and loved the nightlife. The minute I met her, I felt like I’d known her forever—truly a soul sister and kindred spirit. She was an extremely vibrant and kind soul who asked me a question that made me see things through a completely new lens at a time in my life when I desperately needed it. Her impact on me was more than anyone could ever understand. Her words and support gave me the strength I needed during that difficult time. She was the type of person you could spend hours with just sitting on a couch. We never needed to go out to have fun—the fun was right there, simply talking with her. But we always had a blast whenever we enjoyed the nightlife together.

She moved to LA with her boyfriend at the time, in 2002, and although we were both busy living our lives, we stayed in touch sporadically and were able to meet up again in 2008 when she came through town. Each time we connected, we picked right back up where we’d left off, as if no time had passed.

She was beautiful, and she knew it—and she’d say it. But it wasn’t conceited; it was simply the truth. She had a sparkle in her eye and welcomed everyone with open arms. She was energizing to be around, always empowering those around her, and always leaving those she met better off than how she found them.

To know Lauren was to love her. Here is an excerpt from my book where I describe her:

“Standing at six-and-a-half feet tall, Lauren could have easily been a supermodel, turning heads the minute she walked into a room. She was truly a punk-goth goddess and rocked her style like only she could—never taking crap from anyone. She was a total badass.”

There was nobody like Lauren and I feel so lucky I got to know her. Knowing that life continues has made digesting the news of her death a little easier, but it doesn’t mean that I don’t miss her terribly.

I find comfort in knowing that she is with her brother Jackson, who passed before her. I’m sure she’s also with my brother Brian, her beloved pets, shining even brighter than she did here—and that was pretty damn bright. I’ll be missing her until we meet again, and I’m sure it will feel as if no time had passed.

Grief has a way of reminding us how precious life is and how precious the people in it are. People come into our lives for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. Some friends come into our lives only for a season, yet their influence stays with us forever. Lauren was one of those friends for me. Her kindness, strength, and spirit left an imprint on my life that time and distance could never erase.

Halloween 1999

February 2000

Halloween 2001

March 2008