Today is the birthday of my friend Monique Villa, who passed away nearly 6 years ago at the age of 29. Realizing how long she's been gone makes me pause in disbelief sometimes. It really seems strange to me how we (her friends) have all come to accept the fact that her fiery, breathtaking presence has all but been snuffed out of this earth forever. She was just too...beautiful, too young and vibrant, to have ever become invisible, as her death has now deemed her to be.

Even after all this time, I can easily flick on a switch in my memory and hear her sweet soprano voice singing Tuptim's songs from the "King & I". I can see her dancing across the stage as Sleeping Beauty in those unbelievably tiny and delicate dancing slippers. I still sometimes drive through our old street (we lived a few houses away from each other) expecting to see her sitting beside me in the car looking straight ahead with those large, disney-princess eyes. We often drove to rehearsals together and shared many laughs and obscure theater songs on the long ride across South Super Highway. Monique probably weighed all of 90lbs and yet could scarf down platesful of rice in a single meal. We often asked her, where did all that food go? And with an impish grin, she would point to her head and declare, here!

Well, Monique, we all knew how much you loved to sing. And how much you wanted to learn and improve and become a great thespian. So much so that you fought for (and won) the role of a crochety, wrinkled old crone in the musical "Oliver!" just so people could finally see beyond your pretty face to the true artist within. You left this world still singing-- in a voice that we may not have been privileged to hear, but which I know God heard loud and clear. There is no doubt in my mind that you are singing your heart out now up in heaven, probably leading the choirs of angels themselves.

I just wanted you to know, in my own small way, that you will never be forgotten. Happy Birthday!