She just sort of popped into my life one day. One day she was simply my mother's sister, lost somewhere in the oblivion of "auntdom." She was one of those people I saw once a year. I told her I loved her, gave her a hug, and dismissed her until next year. The next day she was my best friend.

Amy lived with a friend until the friend kicked her out. As a stroke of ingenious family revenge, we moved her out the next day. All the while, the friend was blubbering that she didn't really mean it. It was actually pathetic, but now I'm really glad, because that day changed my life.

Amy was different from most people, not in a physical, mental or emotional way. She just had this knack to be able to be what you needed most at the time you needed it. Behind her voice of humor was always a voice of reason. When you were way off base and the world seemed to hate you, she could land your feet on the ground and turn hate to love.

I guess the most important thing she taught me was to take my life less seriously. Don't get me wrong, she didn't treat life as a joke. She just added laughter and a lot of it. She would talk to strangers, sing in the mall parking lot, dress in tie-dye and plaid (on the same day), and say exactly what was on her mind.

At a time in my life when I needed someone to look up to, she taught me to stand on my own two feet. She told me that I was important to her and she made me feel it, too. I never really noticed that she was twenty years older. She was always just one of the gang.

I always knew that one day she would have to leave. I even supported her when she decided to go back to school. Even though I knew the exact date and time of her departure, the day came as a surprise, and I never got to say thank you. c