The world lost a giant smile on Sunday. 

In life, you have several categories of acquaintances.  You have family, distant family, friends, school friends, worker friends and friends of friends.  With few exceptions, family always comes first.  Then there are your expanding circles of friends.  But within that circle is always what I call an Inner Circle of friends.  These are the people who you have known for an extended period of time and have created a close bond with.  They know your likes and dislikes.  They’ve been there for you during the happy times but they are also the first to be there in the sad times.  Even when members of this inner circle go to separate parts of the world, that friendship has been so cemented with your shared life experiences that it’s a bond that typically is never broken.  These friends in your inner circle are closer to you than extended family in most cases.

Susan Dallas (formerly Smith) was one of those people in my and Megan’s life.  She was close friends with a group of Delts at Bradley, myself included, and always had one of the sunniest dispositions I know.  Hands down, she had one of the best smiles on campus and it was impossible to stay grumpy in front of her if she flashed her pearly whites.  There is a special place in heaven for those who help others like the way Susan did throughout her life.

Do you know how hard it is to try to capture someone’s essence in a few short paragraphs when it involves someone you really care about?  Do you know how hard it is to do that through a wall of tears in your eyes?  I’ve actually typed and deleted several paragraphs from this because it doesn’t do Susan justice.  I’ll let those of you who knew her remember your happy thoughts about her and hope the memory of her always resides at some place in your brain when you think of selfless and loving people you know. 

At the risk of sounding like a petulant child, it just isn’t fair.  I understand that life is comprised of happiness and also heartaches and that, in the natural order of life, parents hope they die before their children do.  But it’s NOT supposed to be at this age.  It’s NOT.  And I keep on hoping that somehow I’m in an alternate reality and this all goes away, but I know it won’t.  A wonderful husband lost his wife and a darling son lost his mother.  Our loss of Susan is nothing compared to Chris’ and Evan’s loss.  Our job now is to help and hold them, not just in this time of need but for forever until Susan can hug and hold them again.

Susan, we love you and miss you immensely.  That hole in our hearts hurts like hell and we have trouble letting go but I can guarantee you that after the initial hurt goes away, any time we think of you a smile will appear on our lips.

But for now, we cry.