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I'm feeling a bit of a split personality today. I'm amused enough to want to wish everyone a Happy Canada Day! even though I live in the US and yet I think there will always be a dark cloud hanging over the day for me.
It's a wash of rememberence. This was Joyce's birthday and I think a little part of me will always reflect back to the fire that took her, her mother, and the other victims of the arson attack on their apartment complex. She was the first person I really knew who's life was cut short in such a tragic way. Honestly she's STILL the only one, thank goodness.
Joyce was my brother David's ex-girlfriend/fiance (they were briefly sort of engaged so I'll make note of it). I didn't even especially like her at the time but my brother did so she was immersed into my family quite completely for a few years. The two eventually split up because she seemed to be growing out of the partying stage and wanted David to grow up with her but he wasn't interested. They stayed on friendly terms, all things considered, and checked in with each other every few weeks.
October 1993 someone decided that it would be an awesome idea to set fire to a small apartment complex while all the residents were sleeping. About half of the people managed to get out with various injuries but a few, including Joyce, her mom, and her mom's boyfriend, weren't so lucky. They were trapped by the same bars they had put on their windows for protection. The firefighters tried, but they just couldn't get them out and they were dead on scene.
The funeral was a media circus and I was just so angry at them for being there. Forget Princess Diana, my loathing of the media/paparrazi was cemented that month. I understand the need to report a story but there are lines that get blurry between getting the emotional interview and invading the privacy of those mourning. As a side note, I still cannot listen to the song "Tears in Heaven" by Eric Clapton. I either have to shut it off or leave the room. If anyone plays that at my funeral, I will come back to haunt them. Just putting that out there.
I normally don't mention this event to people because it was so long ago and I feel a little silly when the recognition kicks in as it always does on this day but it has been 15 years and so I thought the least I could do would be to pay tribute to the woman who will never reach that 22nd birthday, who loved to play with my hair, and who understood my problems with my dad.
I am still thinking about you, Joyce, and because I am I know to live life to the fullest because there are things out of our control happening everyday and to have wished you had done something is a lousy way to remember your journey through life.
It's a wash of rememberence. This was Joyce's birthday and I think a little part of me will always reflect back to the fire that took her, her mother, and the other victims of the arson attack on their apartment complex. She was the first person I really knew who's life was cut short in such a tragic way. Honestly she's STILL the only one, thank goodness.
Joyce was my brother David's ex-girlfriend/fiance (they were briefly sort of engaged so I'll make note of it). I didn't even especially like her at the time but my brother did so she was immersed into my family quite completely for a few years. The two eventually split up because she seemed to be growing out of the partying stage and wanted David to grow up with her but he wasn't interested. They stayed on friendly terms, all things considered, and checked in with each other every few weeks.
October 1993 someone decided that it would be an awesome idea to set fire to a small apartment complex while all the residents were sleeping. About half of the people managed to get out with various injuries but a few, including Joyce, her mom, and her mom's boyfriend, weren't so lucky. They were trapped by the same bars they had put on their windows for protection. The firefighters tried, but they just couldn't get them out and they were dead on scene.
The funeral was a media circus and I was just so angry at them for being there. Forget Princess Diana, my loathing of the media/paparrazi was cemented that month. I understand the need to report a story but there are lines that get blurry between getting the emotional interview and invading the privacy of those mourning. As a side note, I still cannot listen to the song "Tears in Heaven" by Eric Clapton. I either have to shut it off or leave the room. If anyone plays that at my funeral, I will come back to haunt them. Just putting that out there.
I normally don't mention this event to people because it was so long ago and I feel a little silly when the recognition kicks in as it always does on this day but it has been 15 years and so I thought the least I could do would be to pay tribute to the woman who will never reach that 22nd birthday, who loved to play with my hair, and who understood my problems with my dad.
I am still thinking about you, Joyce, and because I am I know to live life to the fullest because there are things out of our control happening everyday and to have wished you had done something is a lousy way to remember your journey through life.
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