The e-mail subject this morning read "Sad News." The words it contained were worse.

Wendy Masonek, a fellow high school student who inadvertently catapulted me into journalism, had died.

People my age, in their mid-20s, aren't supposed to die.

The obituary in my hometown newspaper didn't say what she died from, though I'm fairly sure it was related to a disease she had that kept her liver from working right, leaving her skin slightly jaundiced and her body weak. She was a cheerleader with my sister in a Pop Warner league, and went to the same high school as I did. She played drums, and one time we got together in her living room and rocked out.

We lost contact until my senior year of high school when I was on the student newspaper, nearly a decade ago. I was assigned a story about a student who was home studying because she had a rare liver disease and was getting ready for an experimental procedure. That summer, doctors were going to take a piece of her mother’s liver and graft it on to the damaged one in hopes that the good cells take over.

I met Wendy for an interview at the Chico Mall, not quite sure what to expect. It was the first serious interview I'd been assigned. She'd be depressed, angry and frustrated, I assumed.

Minutes into our interview she was striking "Buddy Jesus" poses from Kevin Smith's movie "Dogma" and cracking jokes. Of course, there were the sullen parts to our interview. I recall she felt abandoned by some of her closest friends because she was "the sick girl" who didn't always feel up to going to the movies or to a party. She spent a lot of time at home.

We finished the interview, and I walked out of the mall--dazed with a mix of sadness and admiration for someone who shared part of her life with me. I wrote the story, and then others, and soon graduated. We lost contact again, but I never forgot her. From that article, I understood the power of sharing someone's story. It convinced me that I was meant to be a journalist.

This morning, both my parents sent me an e-mail about her obituary. She died Monday. In lieu of flowers, her family asked that people who have been touched by her perform at least one random act of kindness in her memory. I know I will. She showed me how people can be courageous when faced with death and still smile.

I hope she's touched you, too.