Dear Jaimie

Dear Jaimie,

It's been 19 years. 19. How could it have been that long since I last heard your voice, hugged you, smelled you? You've now been gone longer than you were alive.

I want to say I'm not angry or that I didn't cry today, but that would be a lie. I am angry. Angry that I'll never meet the kids you never got to have. Angry that you'll never meet your nieces. Adia would have adored you. I'm sure you would have been her favorite & you would already have her skateboarding like a pro. She's so much like you. So much life in someone so small. Fearless. Loving. Empathetic. My daredevil. And it scares me. I don't know how mom survived without you. The mere thought of losing Adia cripples me.

I was excited for Christmas this year. Something that hasn't happened in ages. I mean, I like Christmas, but I didn't have that joyful enthusiasm again until this year. Was it Adia? Maybe. She's been so excited about Santa and Christmas trees and snow. But Christmas reminds me of you too. You always loved Christmas. I still have the last Christmas gift you gave me. My Nintendo. It still works. I'll never forget you handing it to me, weeks before Christmas because you said you'd never see me open it otherwise. I didn't understand then, but now it freaks me out. How did you know?

Adia couldn't wait to decorate the tree and without really thinking about it, I put a green Christmas light at the top. Whenever Mom and I would decorate the tree, we'd put a green light at the top, just for you. It was our way of remembering you. Your childhood ornament with your name on it would go at the top too, near the light. I keep glancing at that light, whenever the tree is on, and with a 2 year old, that's all the time, and I think of you.

I bought a poinsettia this year. What's the big deal you ask. It's Christmas, why wouldn't you buy one? Well, after you died, people brought food & sent flowers. Since it was December, most of them were potted poinsettias. I'll never forget all the blood red poinsettias in front of the living room window. There were so many. They seemed like a constant reminder that something was off, that something was wrong. And then one day they were gone. I don't know what happened to them. If they died too, but one day they were gone. It's been 19 years since I let one in the house again. For some reason I had to buy one this year and I did. It's a small one. It's sitting on our kitchen table & it reminds me of you or really, the lack of you. Maybe it means part if me is healing.

I don't know if I'll ever be healed. How can I? No matter what, you'll still be gone. I'll still be that little girl with the crying parents & the hushed whispers. The one who people had to be "careful" around when talking about death, dying, car accidents. The little girl who cried because you'd never open your Christmas presents and fell asleep in our mom's lap at your memorial service. The little girl who wanted your bed in your room, who saw ghosts, had nightmares & couldn't sleep alone for years.

Someday I'll tell Adia & her sisters all about you. At least I'll try, but there's so much I don't know. I only had 6 short years with you. I do remember the skateboarding (I still have the one you made me), sunbathing, the tapioca pudding. The way you always said yumm while you ate & it made mom feel so good. (Adia does that too.) I'm sad and angry that I can't remember your voice or your laugh or the way your hugs felt. I do remember your smell, even though I haven't smelled it since. I know your favorite colors were neon green & hot pink. I can't forget that, along with the slime balls poster that I kept on my wall for years. I'm glad there's pictures I can show the girls. That when Adia asks, "Who's that?" I can tell her. I can show her.

So even though it's been 19 years & I'm older than you'll ever be, my heart still aches for you.

Love,
Silly Goose