If I was forced to speak - a tribute to Zena Mogden
Disclaimer: For those of you mentioned below, I tried my best to keep the focus on Zena’s impact on my life instead of focusing on how others impacted her, but in order to truly share this story the way I need to, you’re most definitely mentioned.
I want to start this with the question “How do you fit a friendship into a story?”. The answer is you really can’t, and you shouldn’t have to, but in today’s day and age life is too short. Too many lives are ended because of circumstances out of our control. If I were to try to explain every single detail of my life with Zena you’d probably have me committed, so in an effort to stay on track with her story I’ve broken this down into 7 short chapters. Chapters that I feel can bring light into her life and hopefully others can relate to these moments with her and feel they too wrote this right along with me. Either way, I needed to speak up, and I believe it is her pushing me to do so.
The start of something zoo?
For many of you that truly knew us, Zena and I referred to ourselves as The Zloths – a hybrid couple made of a zebra and a sloth. Yes, I know, completely strange but spot on to the type of humor her and I enjoyed. It was this humor that actually brought us together in the beginning and I remember it like it was yesterday.
It was a breezy summer night in the backyard of a beautiful house off Jester Blvd. I had heard of you before but the stories did not do you justice. I remember feeling uncomfortable because everyone at the party knew each other. I was good at hiding that fear however and I pushed on through to the backyard. That is where I found you, as if you knew I was coming.
Behind a tree you popped around the corner and said hello. I remember being a bit shocked because the hello seemed so familiar, like we were friends running into each other at a party. Naturally I joined in the tree hugging and it was there that I believe we both knew we might just be the weirdest friends possible.
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| Zena Mogden and I in Breckenridge 2014 |
How you saved me
Writing this part of the story is difficult because it involves me, my story and parts of it that I’ve never actually put into written words. I feel like it’s an important piece though because it opens up a bigger conversion, something that needs to be talked about.
We never fought really, but I remember our first fight. It was so painful because I was really fighting with myself. You see, you saw something in me that I couldn’t admit, that I was suffering and not living right. You were the first person to tell me that I had a problem and that I needed to seek help. I took your honesty and hated you for it because I was unable to see my own problems, I was in too deep. I was just lost, similar to how you must have felt and I pushed you away.
We hadn’t spoken in a couple weeks, I felt alone and helpless, I knew my life was a mess and I thought it was too late, that I couldn’t change the things I had done. You never gave up on me, you tried calling, texting but I felt like a failure in every part of my life. After an extremely scary night alone I realized I needed help and convinced my parents to help me into rehab. I almost left without saying goodbye, the shame inside me was so thick. But the day before I left there you were, as if you knew. My phone rang and it was you.
I almost didn’t answer because I didn’t know what to say, I had hurt you, caused drama and undeserving of your friendship, but I answered. Before I could speak you told me again that I needed help and that you were there for me without an ounce of judgement in your voice. I fell to the closet floor with tears flooding my eyes. When I finally caught my breath and told you I was going to rehab you told me you were proud of me and would be here when I got back.
That was all I needed to hear, I needed to know at that moment that even though I felt crazy and like my world was falling apart that you still remembered the Chelsea I once was. As my flight took off the next morning, I found the smallest ounce of peace knowing you still cared, that maybe just maybe I still had a friend. After 3 months in treatment when I could finally use a phone there you were on the other end reminding me of our friendship and that you would be there when I returned. And you were….yes it took us colliding at an event to bring us back together but that was all it took. You forgave me for my faults, opened your arms and welcomed me back as if no time had passed.
We all need a friend like you Zena, you were an angel then and you are an angel now.
We can all agree
You didn’t even really need to know Zena to feel her influence, perhaps it’s the name Zena that carries such strength, but pretty much just the talk of her created an image of someone you needed to know.
For those who did know Zena (which was everyone) you all most likely felt the same way as I do. There was something about her that was almost mesmerizing, her laugh (or giggle) her blue eyes that somehow became fiery when she was excited or mischievous, her icy blonde hair that turned ridiculously curly under extreme weather conditions (which she hated). Zena was always full of joy, whether dancing to Gareth Emery, planning you a party, cooking for a group of friends, writing down jokes in her iphone everything about her was a collective of what she loved and she shared it with us all.
I remember when I was with Zena, I never had to be the leader or the entertaining one, for the first time in my life I could sit back, relax and watch as the crowd parted as she walked through, I would watch the confusion sweep over people’s faces as they tried to figure her out or simply got lost in the wonder that was Zena. I looked up to her, I wanted that power, that strength and passion that she captured so naturally. She was a strong, independent and thoughtfully calculated human being who valued loyalty more than anything.
Friendships were a top priority to Zena, in fact I really am not sure I understood how to be a friend until I met Zena. She was the only person who I knew no matter what would have my back, even if she was miles away, even if I in fact deserved to be talked about, she never for one second guessed me or any of those she called friends.
Zena always gave people second chances, at least to those she loved most. I think all of us can remember our first Zena argument, it was passionate and honest, sometimes even terrifying but she was worth the fight and clearly if you were fighting she thought the same about you. If you were not her friend however, she did not fake it. I used to think that sometimes she was a little harsh but later realized she was more honest than any of us.
Zena didn’t waste time on the things she didn’t like, she didn’t want to spend her life chasing things that wouldn’t chase her back. She knew what she wanted and wasn’t going to take second best, can’t we all wish to live more like that? The hardest part about knowing her like I did was realizing that the things Zena stood so strongly for, the things she hated more than anything would end up being the things that would pull her down, which brings me to the next chapter and the worst day of my life…
The Flickering Light
At 7 months pregnant I have to admit my life had become a bit boring. I ate, slept, threw up, rinse and repeat, yep I was so much fun. To say that Zena and my relationship had changed during this time would be an understatement. The friend who I once frolicked alongside had moved up north and myself WAY down south. You might be thinking that we both should have made more of an effort, but there were things in the way that placed even more distance between us, one thing in particular was her boyfriend.
The Zena I knew had gotten a bit lost, the strength that I once admired became dwindled and emotionally abused. The girl who once told me to stand up to myself and that the guy I was dating wasn’t good enough needed to take her own advice. Every time we spoke I tried to tell her how I felt about their relationship, at times I thought that I got through to her but within a day or two it was as if nothing we talked about even existed anymore. This became a normal thing between us, 2 hour phone call about the issues they were having, me trying to play devil’s advocate but also guide her away from their toxic relationship, her stating she was going to leave him, we’d hang up. The next day I would text her to check in and they were madly in love, that he had come home that night (late), they stayed up all night and he swept her off her feet once more.
This went on for a while, and eventually I began to think and accept that this was just their relationship, that no matter what I said or did, she seemed happy and I guess that is all that matters, right? No, it’s not right and to be honest I was counting down the days to when I could have a dinner and drink with her again (remember I was pregnant) so we could really get down to the bottom of all of this. I thought that I would have that chance.
November 15th, 2016
I awoke at 6am on the morning of November 15th to a list of phone calls that seemed a bit odd. Both her boyfriend and brother had called me multiple times. After speaking with them both, I knew that this was the time, I cancelled all my meetings that day and headed up to where she was. Driving up there I imagined myself knocking on the door, she opens up the door looking tired and pissed because I woke her, we laugh and I drag her to breakfast or maybe whisk her away from her relationship and the life they had built that never seemed quite right. I imagined what I was going to say to her and I smiled knowing she was going to fight me on everything but for some reason that gave me joy because it was that fight in her that I missed so deeply. That fire that had burnt out too soon.
As I arrived to meet her, my dreams quickly turned to a nightmare and I found myself surviving on her behalf. I ran out of time, there was no more time, “how can this be?”, “how did this happen?”, “when did this happen?” it was like a flood of pain shooting down my spine. I have never felt so sad, mad and confused in my entire life, but you wouldn’t have known it, for some reason I was completely composed as if she was holding my hand the entire time. I found comfort knowing I was there for her family, that I had arrived in time, fully aware of the situation to put them at peace if only for a moment.
The day seemed to last forever, I knew nothing or no one could pry me from that building, not while she was there. Some people came and went including her boyfriend, I was glad. I no longer had to pretend to care about him. I was proud to stand by her as she left the building. As she was wheeled away, I found comfort knowing that the hallways were blessed by a random priest that just happened to be walking in the hallway earlier when I had first arrived. How bizarre.
If I was forced to speak
It’s hard to not be stuck in what could have been done, what I could have said to change the way her life ended. I think that is part of why it’s hard to move on, with the haunting concept that I myself could have done differently and she would still be alive.
If I was forced to speak I would tell her how beautiful she was and how she had become a better friend and mildly less stubborn. I would tell her that I didn’t like her boyfriend, that the moment she started dating him was the moment that it seemed her life slowly became unraveled. I would tell her that she was not wrong to feel like his parents treated her poorly and that she did nothing to provoke such disapproval from them. I would tell her that he was letting her down every day, promising to come home so that they could spend time together instead leaving her home alone to fall deeper into her sadness. I would tell her that I know she is hurting and it was ok and that I would not leave her side until I knew she felt loved. I would remind her of her strength and why we all loved her so much.
I would call her every day and I would say the things I wanted to say without hesitation. I would have told her not to move up north, separating herself from her friends and the world that she built. I would have forced her to see me even when she cancelled our plans. I would have made more of an effort to be in her life. I would remind her of the things she used to love to do once and make an effort to do those things with her. I would have never left her on her last birthday that we spent together while her boyfriend slept the day away in their bedroom. I would have yelled loudly when she was whispering so that he could sleep longer. I would have told her it’s bullshit. I would have told her that the Zena I knew wouldn’t be waiting on a man to make the next move. I would have told her that her life had become toxic. I would have told her that she needed to get back to herself and I would forever work to help her through anything that she was going through. But…..I can’t.
What I Understand
It took me awhile to get to this chapter emotionally, physically and mentally. So much of what I wished I had said followed me everywhere I went, as if I was in purgatory reliving the last year of her life (especially that day). I was blocked, blocked from healing, blocked from even really understanding what happened because I have been so focused on anger, resentment, loss and sadness. I allowed a person, a change, a year I want to forget to consume me and that is not what she would have wanted.
What I understand now is that her life was a beautiful one, that her death was no one’s fault. That she had a deep and meaningful relationship with everyone she ever met. She chose to love her boyfriend and she died knowing that kind of love. I choose to change that year and forget what I could have said. I choose to start fresh and accept that others lives and choices are out of our control. I choose to tell my daughters about their aunt Zena and share all the stories (that are suitable for children.)
Zena Rose Mogden is the best friend I will ever have, she is irreplaceable and no adjective could truly do her beauty justice. I choose to thank her for all the memories and laughs, for believing in me when I couldn’t. Zena has taught me how important communication and friendship is, that no matter the circumstances I should always listen to that voice inside telling me to reach out. Life is too short, Zena never took it for granted and she danced effortlessly through life the way we all should. I will now forget the girl that I last saw on November 15th 2016, and only remember the Zena who I met in a backyard one breezy summer night.