I was married at the time, and my then wife was good friends with her. Vi had just lost her father to cancer, with whom she was very close. She was uncommunicative, didn't reply to emails, she was struggling with her grief. Cedar asked me what she should do (an exceedingly rare occurrence), and I said, “Go down there! Hang out with her, be with her, get her into the city (New Orleans), have some girl bonding time.”
Vi was looking for a car, and she’d found a VW Rabbit-truck, one of those Rabbits with a truck bed. Again, I was asked what my opinion was, did I think those were good vehicles? I said, “Oh, yeah, those little trucks are super cool, she should totally get it, $1,100 (or whateverthefuck the price was) is a great deal!”
Vi was supposed to pick her up at the airport, and she never showed.
She was driving to the airport, in this little rabbit truck, with Zeus in the passenger seat, after having just bought it. I don’t know exactly what happened, but she had a head-on collision, and her and Zeus died instantly. I struggle with wondering if she'd still be alive if I'd kept my mouth shut, and said "I don't know" when asked for advice.
I know it's not my fault, but I keep hearing myself passionately pitching the trip, feeling concerned for Vi in her grief, wanting her to be connected again, to be reachable. Vi was an extraordinary person, and she is sorely missed, even now. She said to me once, “You are one of the good guys.don’t forget that.” I am trying, Vi. I am trying.
I borrowed the picture from Jamie Houston's Picasa gallery. It was taken less than a month before she left. The pain of this loss is devastating, still.
