At first, I thought I'd go to the cemetery and visit my sister and my dad via the floo network, since I'm 800 miles away from where they are interred and can't just pop over to San Diego for a brief visit. I thought maybe I'd take my mom with me. We thought we'd go out to dinner where they loved to eat.
Now that I'm up and well into my day I am sad but not devastated, and curious about what this celebration looks like from the inside. My friends are texting me, sending me messages of love. I feel the blessing of them; it helps me relate better to the love I feel for my dad and my sister, rather than the deep, abiding sadness of losing them.
My dad I still feel great peace about. He had lived three years longer than his diagnosis, we had had plenty of time for telephone calls, visits, preparations. We were all around him, holding his hand, telling him how much we loved him as he left his body.
My sister, on the other hand, left suddenly, unexpectedly and way, way, way too soon. She was only 45. She hadn't been ill, she didn't have her family and friends around her when she died. She just went up to her room for a nap and didn't wake up again.
Two completely different deaths within five months of each other. My insides are like a see-saw.
It's hard when anyone leaves. Days like today are bound to be poignant and sad. But I want to also celebrate the beauty of love shared. Had I not known their love, I could not be the person I am today. Had I never known them, life would have robbed me of their joy of service, their incredible arms that opened and welcomed all of us in, their inclusiveness, their sheer kindness.
Today I am remembering a thousand moments of closeness, kindness, joy. Giggles, fights, romps. Shopping trips, visits, Disneyland. Their love of my son, how my dad would listen to him talk about Pokemon for an hour because he was "having a conversation with his grandson and would I please butt out," and how my sister would spoil him rotten. And how, no matter what, whether I was way too busy for my own good or bored out of my mind, whether I was hurting for money or doing alright, whether I was in San Diego or NM or Europe, they were my allies, they were the ones on the sidelines cheering for me, they were the ones who had my back, and whether I was focused enough to appreciate them and show my love or not, they always let me know they cared.
They say that the thing about dying is that you don't want to get to your death bed and have a gazillion regrets. When people you love die, it's like a practice round. You get to think about all things you did say, or didn't, things you regret saying, things you wish you had said much more often. You get to think about whether you could have been kinder, a better sister or daughter, a better friend. You can wrangle with those thoughts and let them eat you up, or you can make yourself a better person because of it.
I like to think that these meandering meditative thoughts have made me a better person, made me more empathetic, more compassionate, more willing to look behind what's going on and give the person underneath a hug. I like to think that in my sister's honor, I am more tolerant and a kinder person. I like to think that in my dad's honor, I am more serviceful.
June 19 will pass. It's only the first of many without these two precious souls in my life. And while it is a special day in its own way, my hope is that my tiny day of the dead celebration feeds me everyday with a reminder of love.
June 19, 2016
Happy Father's Day, papa! Happy birthday, Ali!
I love you both so much!
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