A Letter to My Sister on the Day of Interment of Her Ashes
Sarah Dear
I heard your death coming close in Norma’s voice when she called that Thursday morning because her voice knew even though her heart hadn’t heard it yet. And I so waited for Richard’s silent text of sadness. And we began our mourning for you.
But not just for you—for when you passed through that holy door, we glimpsed our lost loves
…and our hearts remembered Jack and missed him anew and Mary and Berta and Billie and Sylvia Lucille. And Mama and Daddy.
…and in the midst of it all we slid through Christmas and into a new year without you.
Mourning is unreliable, grief comes and goes bringing heaviness, tiredness, tears and rage and then oddly enough peace and tender tender love. So we trudge through this time with only your memory and
we wonder that we are now orphans and
we wonder now that we don’t have a grandmother and
we wonder that we don’t have a sweet gam and
we wonder now that we don’t have a special aunt and namesake and
we wonder that we don’t have a big sister and
we wonder when life will be not be like this anymore.
So our dear Sarah Dean, here we stand, holding you in our hearts with our arms around one another.