Today would be your 40th birthday. You've been on my mind so much the last several days. You always are in April when the daffodils are in bloom. Reminders of you are everywhere in these early days of spring. It's weird, but I seem to miss you the most during the beautiful, sunny, warm days of early spring.
The other day I heard Kenny Chesney's song Who You'd Be Today. Just as the songs says, I wonder so much about the person you'd be today. It's hard to imagine you at 40. You died so young with so many of your dreams unrealized. What would you be like today? Would you have chased your dreams and then settled down with a family? Remember how we used to talk about your future? What would you have named your babies?
I remember the year I turned 40 and how happy I was to celebrate with you. We were both so young and carefree then, or at least it seemed that way. You must have been struggling much more than I realized. But still, you showed up to make my birthday special. That was so like you, always hiding your own pain while you made others smile. We made so many plans together during the early days of my 40th year - plans to grow old together. Remember how we promised each other we would never be alone because we would be two crotchety old ladies living together in our golden years? When we made that promise did you know you wouldn't make it to 40?
Why is it that sunny days make me miss you so much? I feel so alive and happy on those days, especially the sun-filled days of early spring when the flowers are beginning to bloom. It's when I feel most alive that my heart fills with sadness and longing for you. Life is full of so many simple, beautiful pleasures, like the warm sun on your face after months of cold, dark winter days. You lost sight of all the good things that life could offer you. Your mind played tricks on you, focusing only on the dark, hopeless thoughts in your head. I wish I could have helped you through that last dark night of your life. If only I could have been there to remind you of the light and hope that morning and a new day would bring.
I miss you. I wish you were here to celebrate your 40th birthday together with me. The sun is going to be shining and the daffodils are blooming in my yard. I'm having a party to celebrate your day, because even though you're gone your life still deserves to be celebrated. I love you forever Jules. Happy Birthday.
Her life was indeed one to celebrate. Can you imagine our lives if they had not been graced by her life? We would be poor in memories, in laughter, in friendship, in love with out our Jule. Our sorrow is so deep, but not is as deep as our love. Her life and her death deepened our souls and our understanding of those who suffer from depression and mental illness. She was a treasure. How can we not celebrate the baby, the child, the teenager, the young woman, the wise woman that was Julie?
ReplyDeleteKeicha, this is beautiful. I'm so sorry for your pain, but so glad to know about Julie from both you and your mom.
ReplyDeleteI read your mom's blog and blubbered through her memories of Julie and I'm heading down the path again with you. It is wonderful that you can share your memories of Julie as vibrant and alive. She lives on through you when you smile at the thought of her in spring.
ReplyDeleteKeicha, no one could say it better, with more heart or more love. Sending you extra hugs today as you mourn and celebrate Julie and all the good things of your lives together.
ReplyDeleteMy thoughts and prayers are with you, Keicha! What a heartbreaking, irreplaceable loss for you and your entire family. But the loss of that dream of growing old together in the special way that loving sisters do is especially sad. I'm so sorry that you've lost beautiful, sweet and funny Julie and that dream of so much more time together.
ReplyDeleteSo sorry for the loss of your sister...both you and your Mother have remembered her 40th birhday so lovingly . May all the good memories sustain you through the years, until you meet again!
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