She was 51.
Too young.
There are still days that I just cannot believe that my
sister is gone. (6 months later)
In our childhood innocence and in our naïve adulthood, I think we believed we would all grow old together and maybe even die at the exact same time.
The smack of “now there are only 4 of us” hits me every day.
When I think about making sure something gets communicated
to the family, there’s always that nagging feeling that I have forgotten
someone.
When someone asks me how many siblings I have, it’s hard to answer that now. I haven’t “perfected” or decided how my response should come out.
When someone asks me how many siblings I have, it’s hard to answer that now. I haven’t “perfected” or decided how my response should come out.
And then there is the matter of selecting a gravestone. I
know. . .maybe we already did that, right? Um, no. It’s hard. It’s all hard.
Surreal.
So. . .it’s been decided what type of stone.
So. . .it’s been decided what type of stone.
Now. . .when will I go and take care of that little detail? I
really don’t wanna. Not so much. Cuz that will make it really really real.
Again.
3 comments:
Christine; the gravestone doesn't mean the end or finality of Amy. It's just marking her resting place on earth so everyone will know where she is when they want to visit her.....
The stone declares: she is, and she was upon this earth. Your heart, however, knows the wonders of the life that came between.
Regardless of what some people say, it doesn't get any easier with time, just gets pushed back by the day to day chaos. I have lost both my brothers, one at age 19 and the other at 45....and it is really real every day.
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