I spuddle.

Last Saturday, my friend Martha Ralph was killed when a stolen Honda cut her off on the Malahat.   She was on a motorcycle driven by her long-time boyfriend, Larry Machnee.    They didn’t have a chance.   He died on the scene and she died later that day in hospital.

When I found out, I was at my mum’s house, reading the paper.   I’d just flipped open the first section and there was a big, colour photo of Martini (no one really ever called her Martha) and Larry, under a headline that said something about a stolen car and nine charges.   I didn’t get it.   I looked at the picture and re-read the headline.   I couldn’t make it fit.   The headline mentioned a dual fatality, a Saanich couple, and a stolen car and a 25 year old man.   It still made no sense.   I folded the paper over and went to make a cup of tea.   When I got to the sink, I noticed my hands were shaking.   I actually thought to myself, “Why are my hands shaking?  That’s so weird.”

It was like my brain had already processed the information on one level, but on another I was in such deep denial I still didn’t understand.   That’s never happened to me before.   I always thought of denial as something more conscious.   I really, truly didn’t comprehend.

I sat down again with my tea, carefully unfolded the paper with my shaking hands, and read the article.   And that’s when I found out that Martini was gone.

One stolen car.   One kid out for a joyride.   Two deaths.

People always say nice things about other people when they die, but in this case what Martini’s son says in the article is the truth, she didn’t have a mean bone in her body.   She was the nicest person you’ll ever meet.   Only now, you won’t get a chance.

I’ve spent a few days thinking about what happened and feeling angry about the circumstances and feeling so sad for Martini and Larry and their kids and all their friends.   I’ve also spent a lot of time regretting.   The truth is that although we’d been friends for sixteen years, I hadn’t actually seen her for months.   I’m always busy, you see.    Always.   And I blow people off because I don’t have time and there is always some future when the kids are in school and I’ll be freed up to go for walks and coffee, but for now, I say, “Too busy.”   I’m sorry I was “too busy” to see her last time she called, I’m so so sorry.   Because sometimes, you just don’t get another chance.

RIP Martini and Larry.    I miss you already.

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