She Loved Just the Same

I once knew a girl named Stacey Lorraine. We first met at a local barber shop downtown. She wore the most elegant clothes with laced shoes to match. Her dirty blond hair flew through the wind as she walked down the street. She entered the shop with such vibrant colors and a warm smile. The chill I felt earlier had disappeared and my gaze was on her now. I did not envy her, for there were no superior demands shooting through her body. She spoke softly and slowly. "I'm having a bad day and my hair looks like shit." The words came calm, and before I could change my shocked face she glanced my way. To cover up my glare I simply said, "Take a seat next to me." Without hesitation she did as I suggested. We stared at each other admiring one another's facial expressions and finally she spoke again. "You'd never guess, but I've just been thrown out of my house." Another calm sound came from her mouth again, but more seriously this time. She was right. She appeared flawless and yet her words said otherwise. I would have never guessed had I not looked behind her mask. She was blunt, and I had not yet been introduced to such a person before. Little did I know, but my life was just about to change for good.
Stacey got her hair fluffed and styled for what seemed like hours until she was satisfied. I didn't mind, because we talked and that kept my patience. We smiled and shook hands. I thought I might never see her again until she laughed, "You made me feel beautiful today. I'm gonna need that another day." Soon enough Stacey and I visited the shop once a week which rapidly turned into two times a week then quickly changed to a cup of coffee across the street on a bench. We talked. We didn't just talk about the weather, but about our lives. We were friends. And although I only knew Stacey for 6 months, I soon knew more about her than some of those that had known her all of her life. I listened. She told me, "Doloris, there is no time to walk through life anymore. You've got to touch things and feel things and make everyday worth it, or it's just another thing you're going to regret." Those words didn't mean a whole lot at the time until I finally understood what she meant the day she died.
She never told me she had cancer. I forgave her. I knew she needed somebody who didn't hold the letter C above her head everytime we talked. She told me lots of things, like how she watched her daddy kill himself with a knife and how her mother used to call her names. She told me that she loved women more than men. I knew what she meant. She didn't have to say it out loud and I didn't want to call her anything but Stacey. Gay just didn't do her justice. She once said, "Labels don't mean a thing to me. I'm still Stacey even if I'm gay. I still walk and talk the same. I still share the same blood as my father, my mother, my brother, my sister. I still laugh and cry and need and want like everybody else. But most importantly, I love just the same."
I sat right up front on her funeral day. People looked but I just looked away. I said a little pray and thanked God for sending me an angel. She changed my ways. And I knew at the time, and I know now that God has a special place for people like Stacey Lorraine.