Quebec teen dies after apparently taking ecstasy

I went to a funeral reception yesterday. Rather I avoided going to a funeral I couldn't bring myself to go in and instead went shopping for an hour with my husband.

The newspapers had this to say:

RIGAUD, Que. -- A 13-year-old girl who went into a coma after apparently experimenting with the drug ecstasy has died, Quebec provincial police said Tuesday.

The girl, who had been on life support since the incident late last week, died Monday, said police spokesman Marc Butz. Butz would not comment on reports a 16-year-old boy has been arrested and charged with drug trafficking.

Butz said a judge had imposed a publication ban on information about the case.

Provincial police say the 13-year-old teen from Rigaud, west of Montreal, and a 14-year-old friend were at a sleepover when they went to the home of an older acquaintance to allegedly obtain the drug.

After they returned to the 14-year-old's home, the youngest teen began to feel ill and had trouble breathing.

An ambulance was called and she was taken to the hospital, where her condition deteriorated.

Family and friends said their final goodbyes in the filled-to-capacity St. James Church in Hudson.

I can barely think about it without getting all teary-eyed and choked up.

You see, this girl was my daughter's best friend from the first day of grade three through New Years' Eve in Grade five. Both girls are now in Grade 8. But my daughter has been homeschooled since last January. Given this combination of experience, I can't say that I knew the girl when she died. What I can say is that I liked her. She was a self-composed, intelligent girl, sure of herself, with an intense, sarcastic sense of humour. Well beyond her years, much like my daughter, and like my daughter, an alpha-female.

I had a fleeting friendship with the girl's mother, but that went away when the girls' friendship broke up. So although I knew the girl who died, I didn't know her at all anymore. Still, her passing breaks my heart.

The girl's mother is very, very angry. And what mother wouldn't be. She's very angry with the girl her daughter was with when she took the drugs. For the mother, the surviving girl is entirely at fault. I can't blame her for feeling that way. Who else can she blame. Certainly not her daughter. Certainly not the Mother of the surviving girl. Certainly not herself.

I hugged her at the reception and I started to say to her that I knew how she felt, but I couldn't possibly -- I still have my baby. But she stopped me and knowing the story of my first husband, she made it clear that although the circumstances are different, she knows I know how she feels.

She seemed so empty... Distant... Lost. Did I look like that when my first husband died?

The only other thing left to be said, is about the girl. She wanted to be an architect.

Me out.