My first real memories of Larue Simmons when I was in between my first and second years in graduate school. I was in Alaska for the summer and she was the office manager for the center where I was going to be a graduate assistant for the fall. I had some paperwork to fill out, so she faxed me a copy of it, with her pretty handwriting. If I look hard enough I probably still have it somewhere here. She wrote with her left hand and always had the most immaculate red nails.

Larue and I became fast friends. She was very down-to-earth and really took care of all of us in that office. I remember her making up our meeting agendas and how she planned the last minute nitty gritty details of a speaker coming onto campus and we divided ourselves up accordingly and we got things done. We used to eat lunch together at least once a week - our favorite lunch was chicken and cashews from the local Chinese delivery place. “Casey, I’m about to make an order. Do you want your regular?”

“Oh, Larue, I shouldn’t!” She’d laugh and pat her belly.

“Neither should I. So do you want your regular order?” And I always did.

I lived 400+ miles away from my mother while I was in graduate school. Larue stood in, and stood in well - not just for my mother, but everyone’s. The students in our office loved Larue. They would come in and just sit and talk to Larue and before graduation, come in with hugs and kisses and flowers and tears. She was a mother to her own daughter and a mother to all of us who needed one.

Larue died on Monday, after a car accident, a freak car accident. She just graduated from college in December. She was a new grandmother. She was living her life loudly.

I think back to my time at James Madison with fondness. I loved every minute I was there - I loved walking up the sloping hill to Weaver, I loved running across the street from Hoffman, always perpetually late for my classes even though I was less than 5 minutes away. I loved piling into a car at 2AM for Waffle House’s weak coffee and scattered, covered and smothered potatoes. Being at JMU as a student is an experience I’ve always wanted to recreate but I’ve never found the right mix of people or circumstances to make that a reality.

Larue was the right person and the right circumstance, and I cannot express how sad I am that the next time I go visit my beloved alma mater, I won’t be able to give Larue a hug and share some bad Chinese takeout with her.

It is so cliché, the concept of living life to the fullest and making sure every moment counts, but it’s got a little grain of truth. If you’re not doing what you want, why not?

I saw a message on a friend’s facebook status account and by the tone of it, I knew things weren’t good. It was with dread that I wrote to Larue’s current boss, Jim (and on Jim I could write an entire entry - this man is amazing). My heart sank when he wrote me back this morning, confirming the news.

Shannon, your entry is wonderful. I miss being at JMU right now, because I sure could soak up some of that purple and gold comfort as we grieve the loss of a fine woman and a wonderful friend.