A few weekends ago, I was watching old Footworks videos, grimacing at my permed hair/big glasses/braces, not to mention my dance moves. But the videos were full of great memories…practices during Christmas break, quick changes in the dark behind the curtain, morning practices, good times with friends.

Whenever we had to be paired with other dancers, I was paired up with Rolly, a silly guy who was just a total goofball. We were both really short, so it worked out. My second year in Footworks, Rolly grew taller while I stayed short. Argh. Anyway, it was always fun working with him, though. He made everyone laugh, and he also made everyone feel special. I remember one time he let me take his pager home for whatever reason. It’s not like I could use it for anything, really. But he would page it and leave me messages using the number alphabet that we all used to do before text messages were possible. And if he got a page, I would call him and try to decipher the message for him.

While browsing around the Valley High myspace alumnis, I saw a post that said “RIP Rolly Soliven.” My eyes nearly fell out of my head. I opened it up, hoping there would be some crazy explanation besides the obvious. From there, I found other sites that explained it all. Rolly’s motorcycle hit a guard rail on the freeway over the weekend and he died instantly. In addition to affirming my belief that nothing good comes from owning a motorcycle, I was so sad to read the news.

About a year and half ago, we exchanged some e-mails just to catch up. Rolly was working at a sushi restaurant and told us to stop in the next time we were back in town. We didn’t, and that was that.

I guess you just never know when people–whether or not they are close to you–will die. And everytime someone does die, it just reminds us all how important it is to express to people close to us how much they mean to us. You just never know.