There's A Million Miles To Go To Where Happiness Lives

Once upon a time, in a famous coastal city, a girl named Adrian* was born. She had an older sister, unfortunately I cannot remember her name. This is because they were separated, from their parents and each other, by no fault of their own. An evil villain called Alcoholism had taken control of their parents and left the two young girls scared and alone. It wasn't that they didn't love them, she told me, they just loved alcohol more. When the authorities found them eventually, they put them in an orphanage. It was not great, but it was better than dying. And at least then they still had each other.

Fortunately for Adrian, less so for her sister, she was the better looking one and this orphanage was part of a charity project of a very well known, well-off school in this here coastal town (my primary school at the time). It was here that a childless middle aged couple saw her and decided that the charitable thing would be to adopt a child. Seeing as all their friends have children and all their social activities revolved around school functions and charities, this was a great opportunity for networking and name dropping. With the political climate at the time, close to 1994, adopting a black child would still be a bit too controversial and slightly frowned upon. But an orphan, now that is noble. Don't you think?

All the other children from the orphanage were in the special needs class, they just did not fit in socially for some reason and struggled to adapt and find motivation to achieve. But not her, she was somewhere in between. Normal maybe. Adopted by the very wealthy couple, she had everything a child could want at that age. All the opportunity her sister would never have. Yet they would see each other everyday in passing, slowly becoming strangers.

One day she invited me to the theater with her and her parents. A day I will never forget. It was then I learned to be very grateful or my own parents and the way they were raising me. My heart was bleeding for her, each time they would talk to her and treat her like the orphan she was, or the biggest mistake they ever made. They treated me better than their own child. I could not sleep that night. In the morning I called my parents to come fetch me. How can a child understand a situation like that?

We were not good friends, but I tried to give what I could. But as you do when you move away and cellphones are not yet invented, we lost contact. About 7 years later she tried to reconnect. I did not have time. About a year later we found each other on Facebook. We said hi. there was not much more to say. She was still in the coastal town, became a paramedic and seemed to enjoy it. She looked lonely but happy. Today I saw it's her birthday on Facebook, go to her page and start typing happy birthday... then I notice all the other messages are apologies and regrets, followed by a message from her cousin that she had just passed away. Wow. Pull yourself towards yourself! Cause of death: unknown. Date: 7 months ago... If you know anything about her death, please contact Detective Nortje...

Seriously, how did I miss this? Have we become so detached from reality, that we don't even realize when someone dies, unless it's broadcast in a way we will notice it, like a group on Facebook or a fan page for a person who passed away. Status updates. Stuff like that...

I am so sorry. You deserved much more.

R.I.P. friend.

(This story may or may not be true. Either way, I will fuck you up if you ever treat a child like that. The end.)