Losing Wendy

This is my post for Mama Kat’s weekly writing assignment.  I chose the prompt about a unique classmate.
The year I was in the 1st grade my friend Wendy died.  She fell from the top of some “monkey bars” and her injuries were so severe that she never recovered, and died a few days later.  What makes this post a little hard to write-is that the memories I have of that tragic event are the memories seen through the eyes of my 6 year old self.
When I first heard that Wendy had gotten hurt, I remember thinking that she would be back at school sooner or later.  I  didn’t even consider any other possibility.  I was visiting my grandmother when I heard the news.  Someone simply remarked, “I heard the Forbes girl died.”   I was stunned.
I don’t think it was the losing of a friend that was so hard.  It is just that when you are 6, there is a certain order to the way your  life is.  Wendy’s death changed that for me—showed me that I couldn’t be sure of anything. 
Even now, I can conjure up some some of my impressions at that time, but they are vague, and I can’t put them into words.  I don’t remember that anyone talked to us about Wendy.  There wasn’t any sort of grief counseling.  I think everyone thought that it was best to just not talk about it.
I still think of Wendy once in a while.  I wonder the usual things, like what she would have done with her life if she’d had the chance to grow up.  And whenever I see some of those same monkey bars-I am 6, and haunted, again.