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Obviously, scrubbing The Filth kicked Lisa's ass. What can I say? I'd been very pregnant for a very long time at that point. When I took the photo, I'm pretty sure I was hurling obscenities at Lisa, which is post-partem depressionese for, "I love you and I can't believe how much you love me."

Lisa had a niece named Heather. They didn't have a typical aunt-niece relationship in part because they were much closer in age than most nieces and aunts. I can't remember the exact age difference, but it was close enough to make them more like sisters. This was compounded by the fact that Heather lived with Lisa's family when they were kids. Bottom line: Lisa and Heather were close and had a really special relationship.

Yes, I'm speaking of Heather in the past tense. In early March, 2002, Heather killed herself. Not only did she leave behind Lisa, but also two young daughters, some dear friends, and a huge extended family.

No one saw it coming; she seemed happy.

I have seen how Lisa has struggled since she lost Heather, but I know the struggles I've seen are the tip of the proverbial iceberg. When Heather killed herself, she killed a part of every person who loved her. I've seen first-hand how her death killed a part of the joy that once lived in Lisa.

I can't imagine what part of her little girls died with her.

At the time of Heather's death, Lisa and I weren't close. We'd had some struggles in our friendship, growing pains of sorts. I didn't know about Heather's suicide until a week or so after the fact, when Lisa returned home from helping her sister pack Heather's things. While packing she found an antique book called, "Poppy: The Story of a South African Girl", printed in 1911. Lisa has always called me Poppy; that was the alias I used on the online bulletin board where we first met, and she's always preferred it to my given name. Her kids call me Aunt Poppy. Anyway, when she saw the book, she knew I had to have it. Didn't matter that we hadn't spoken to each other in months. Because if a sudden death teaches one thing, it's that life is too goddamn short and if you have any love in your heart for another human being, you'd better let them know.

Lisa called me at 7 AM the morning she returned, even though she knew it would piss me off. It did. She briefly told me of Heather's death, and told me that she was sending something home with B., who worked in the same building. It was the book, and we immediately started repairing our friendship.

I hate to say that we owe our friendship to Heather's death when so many people lost so much with her. I prefer to think that maybe her spirit, and the lessons we've learned from her death have had a guiding hand in Lisa and me doing right by each other.

A few months after Heather's death, Lisa called me at 8 AM (I'm not sure why she's so fond of dragging my ass out of bed, but I forgive her.), requesting that I be ready to go in two hours. We were going to Memphis to fetch Lance from his grandma's house.

Lisa doesn't invite. She doesn't ask. She informs you that you're going. And who am I to say no when, 1) I am morally unable to pass any opportunity to go to Memphis, and 2) I knew we needed this trip. Four hours in the car with Lisa, talking about Heather. We both needed it.

Heather's suicide changed so many lives. I never met her, but her death changed my life. Her death gave me back my friend, but it also robbed her of a huge source of light.

I've watched Lisa do her best to work through the grief that came from Heather's death. So much so that I decided awhile back that Lisa is a superhero. She's .... dum dum da dum ... Grief Girl! And I'm her trusty sidekick, Funeral Slut! I'm sure you can imagine what our costumes look like.

This August, Lisa's going to put her superpowers to the test by participating in the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention's Out of the Darkness Overnight Walk. She and one of her friends who also lost a loved one to suicide will be walking 20 miles from dusk on August 12 until dawn on August 13 to raise money for AFSP. Lisa's walking in Heather's memory, and I have no doubt that this walk will be a huge milestone in Lisa's healing.

If you'd like to pledge a few bucks, here's the place to do it. It's all tax-deductable and what-not.