I Don’t Want You To Be A Memory

My cousin Julie passed away yesterday. I knew it was coming, she had terminal cancer. I wasn’t able to see her near the end, but I did have a nice phone conversation with her a few weeks ago. We kept the conversation light. We laughed, just like we have laughed together so many times through the years. I am thankful for that phone call. That moment..along with so many other “insignificant” moments along the way, are memories I will always treasure. 

But tonight, one thought hit me like a ton of bricks. 

I don’t want her to be a memory. I don’t want to just remember her voice, her smile, the laughter. I want to know that the next time I am at a family event I will seek her out and pick right back up where we left off, like we always do. 

I want to talk about the time that the dog babysat me all morning when i was five years old, because my dad forgot that my aunt was out of town and dropped me off at her house before kindergarten like he did every morning. That story brings a laugh every time.

I want to talk about those fun family reunions in Wichita when we were teenagers. 

I want to hear her stories, sometimes long winded but always so animated and entertaining. 

I don’t want her to be a memory, just like my parents..my sister..my grandparents..her sister Jane..her dad..other cousins..and so many others. 

I’m happy that her suffering is over, and the thought of her reuniting with that big group of wonderful people is comforting. I believe that death is something beautiful for the dying, but the people left behind are the ones hurting. Hurting because we will miss their presence in our daily lives. 

So, yes.. I don’t want her to be just a memory. I want her to be a hope. I will carry her with me as a part of me, as I do my other loved ones that have passed. Every one of them has changed my life in some way to make me the person I am, and my hope is that we will meet again to laugh and catch up. I believe we will.