Kim was four years ahead of me in high school and I thought she was the most beautiful person; I admired how many people loved her, how easily she made friends. We were in band together and she was the drum major for marching band. I remember her poise and how she had the ability to get everyone's attention and focus, how she mothered everyone. When she was on homecoming court, those of us in the band stood as the candidates came onto the field. She was so radiant in a beautiful strapless evening gown. When they announced her name, I remember tears welling up in my eyes, I was so proud to be her cousin.
When our families got together I remember all of us girls sitting in the kitchen and talking about school drama. I have a memory of being little, and she always sent me home with something: a toy, or something glittery. One time she sent me home with a bag full of sequins and beads and I thought I'd been given treasure. I'd forgotten about her taking us to see JAWS 3D until Jamie wrote about it.
The last time we had our Christmas party here, she and my uncle Pete (who has also passed) were here. We laughed so hard together. That is my last wonderful memory of all of us.
Kim and I messaged each other pretty often over the past five years, offering each other encouragement. She was brave in writing about this fight on social media; she didn't flinch from describing the reality of it. When I caught myself feeling self-pity or complaining about something meaningless, her words were like tough love, a reminder about perspective. I hope she knows how much I loved her.