Molly

7

And then... she was gone.

When I got the phone call that she had died, I don't think I really understood it. I mean, someone with that much life doesn't just die. But if I'm being honest, she'd been dying for a long time.

I helped pack away her things, all ten stuffed animals, all of which I came to know by name. They still had faint traces of her cherry perfume left on them as I boxed them up. I looked down at her old playbill, remembering one night in our dorm when she convinced me to watch Wicked. The lyrics of the finale sounded in my head as I boxed it,

"No one mourns the Wicked."

Molly never meant to lead a seemingly "wicked" life, and so I continue to mourn her with each passing day. I kept picking up more boxes, helping move her stuff out. I couldn't pick them up as effortlessly as she once was able to, and they weighed more like boulders of burdens I carried knowing I never really said goodbye to her.

And when they asked me to do this eulogy, I didn't know what to say. So I just decided to tell you that there are certain things I'll always know for sure.

"C'mon Charlotte, we've got stories to write!"

Molly was my roommate, my muse, and my best friend.

"Don't worry, my dear. You won't be alone, I'll be here."

Being around her was like spinning in a circle until you're dizzy.

"I love you, Lottie."

And our love remains huge and permanent.