She didn’t know I was there. How could she? She was dead, buried in the hard ground six feet under.
I ran my fingertips over the gray granite tombstone, outlining her name one letter at a time. God how I missed her. Damn cancer. I’ve never hated anything so much.
I smiled, remembering my big sister, the one who always made everything all right. The one who ate my vegetables when my parents weren’t looking. The one who took me shopping and bought me things I didn’t need but wanted. My biggest cheerleader when it came to my writing. “Sure, I’ll read it,” she’d say. And she did. And she loved it, or at least pretended to.
This time of year is especially difficult for me. The holidays always amplify my pain. Mom. Dad. Wendy. Brad. I miss them all, and I wish they were here.
If you are missing someone this holiday season, my heart goes out to you. May the peace of the season comfort you and may your memories be a balm to heal your hurting heart.