Today would have been my sister Becky's 38th birthday. She killed herself two months ago. The approach of her birthday has been very hard for me and I decided early on that I would make a pilgramage to Brady and her grave site on her birthday.
I purchased a couple of nice vases with roses prearranged in them, as I have no ability to arrange flowers at all, and I took everything to secure them on either side of her grave.
Steve and Will accompanied me on the trip and help me set up the flowers. I asked Steve to take Will to the park and play and leave me there alone for half an hour or so, and he did.
Becky's grave is right next to a small tree. I set with the tree against my back, facing the head of her grave. The wind was blowing constantly, whipping my hair into my face and making the wind chimes in the tree sing constantly. It was hot and I kicked off my shoes and tilted my head up towards the sun. Closing my eyes and allowing the warmth of the sun to touch my face. I dug my left hand into the fresh dirt over the edge of Becky's casket and just allowed my grief out.
At first I cried. I told her how sorry I was that I hadn't visited more often. What a sorry sister I was that I didn't even remember exactly how old she was; I thought she was going to be 37. I complained about facing my old age without her there with me.
Then I just sit. The tears fell a while longer. Unseen by prying or concerned individuals. I didn't have to "put on" a face or pretend I was okay. I just grieved.
Then I talked to her like she was really there. Well, actually she is . . . just not really capable of hearing me. I told her about my book I was writing, Bonnet's visit, how well Tim was doing. I told her I was looking for an angel for her grave site and a bench while I was at it. Pondered the likely hood of who would eventually buy her a gravestone and what they'd put on it.
Then I read her the end of the book I had with me. Not that it was a special book, just a novel I was currently reading. Becky and I always shared our love of reading.
Then I just sit. I allowed the quite to seep into my soul. The earth to heal me. The wind to dry my tears. The wind chime to fill my head with music.
By the time Steve and Will came by, 45-minutes later, I was ready to say goodbye. I put on my shoes, dusted off my pants, gathered my drink and book and climbed into the car without looking back.
Becky may never know I was there for her on her birthday, but I do.
Happy birthday Becky.
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This, this is what I talk about with you, the soul baring. So awesome to read! You are gifted! The tears flow with the relief that you must be feeling. I completely understand all that you convey, all that you let us know you feel. I know Becky can feel it too, what a relief for her as well. You are a good sister to put it in writing, to let her rest without guilt. You are a good sister!
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