Remembering & Honoring My People

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I’ll Miss You Forever…

May has always been the most challenging month for me. Every Memorial Weekend, the memories come flooding back like yesterday. My world stopped then, but time didn’t. It felt so wrong that life continued for everyone else when hers had ended. Nothing felt natural to me. It was like living and dying in slow motion for me. I would watch the people around rushing around, and I could hard lift my head.

I was paralyzed, unable to do anything or make any plans for the future. My head was in a fog, and I couldn’t think straight. My dreams were shattered, smeared with the ugly colors of grief. There was no light, no joy, only a strange state of being neither truly awake nor asleep. I was a hollow shell, numb inside. Everyone around was so annoyed at my lack of care for life now.

Part of me wanted to die with her. The world was too heavy without her. I felt immense guilt for these thoughts, knowing it would devastate my parents (especially my Dad), knowing I was too weak to keep going and too lost to know where to go. I desperately wished I could turn back time and undo this nightmare. I prayed for her to drive up in her teal Chevy Cavalier and tell me it was all a mistake; maybe then the feeling would return to these cold, numb limbs.

I begged God to make it all unreal, to wake us from this nightmare. I did wait- I waited for a long time, but she didn’t come back.

As months passed, I had to face reality. It was real, but it hurt too much to believe. So, my brain protected me. I pretended she was just busy with her life, as we had been in high school. Denial was the only way I could avoid losing myself completely. I had to find some way to function.

Yet, as the first anniversary of her passing approached and then passed, I found myself sinking deeper into depression. I drank to numb the pain, struggling to maintain any semblance of a “normal” life. My grades suffered, I couldn’t sleep without medication, and nightmares plagued me. I made one wrong decision after another, disappointing many people. No saw of how deep I had really fallen, but I knew. Looking back, my heart aches for the sad, lonely girl I was then. I know I should have talked to someone, but I didn’t want anyone else hurt like I hurt. I just wanted all the pain, everyone’s pain, to go away. I wanted to be “normal” and make people proud.

I had rarely shared this in the past, but Kristy used to visit me in my dreams a few times. She helped me through panic attacks, depression, and anxiety, especially in my worst years of depression and really sad thoughts. Her presence was a balm, her face a source of comfort. I cherished every dream, studying her closely, soaking in every detail. It was what got me by.

In my dreams, she appeared younger, like our most playful and innocent days. Her blonde hair was untamed, and she wore cotton shorts and a tank top—clothes she never wore as an adult because she hated shorts. But in my dreams, she was a carefree child, full of life and joy.

Her joy lifted my spirits and soothed my nerves. She didn’t speak much, but when she did, her words always mattered. Once, she told me to go to church because I would need it someday and that God was real. She told me I would need to share my faith with others. She urged me to “stand up” and protect myself from snakes, a message I’m sure had multiple meanings.

In the last dream, she ran towards the sun, saying, “Goodbye, Sarah.” I chased her, desperate for one last glimpse, but the sun was too bright. She disappeared into the light, leaving me heartbroken because I knew that was the last time I would see it. I knew she wouldn’t return to my dreams. Kristy had guided and protected me for so long, and I’m grateful for every moment. It was now time for her to move on.

Now, another year has passed without her. My life didn’t stop, but it stalled a little here and there over the years. There have been so many times I’ve felt remorse for being alive and guilt for not achieving more. I knew it pained my aunt to see Kristy’s friends and nieces living their lives, knowing her daughter couldn’t. I felt that guilt deeply for living and not living more. It’s a double-edged sword.

Planning my wedding, buying a house, finishing school, having children—it was all bittersweet. I wanted to honor my life, but the weight of grief made it hard at times. People made it more challenging at other times. God moved me gently at times and other times with a swift kick, pushing me forward. I am thankful.

When I married, I carried a small metal angel to symbolize Kristy’s presence. When my son was born, I put an angel in his diaper bag to protect him. We moved into a house, and her picture went up. I tell her story to my children, ensuring they know her well. Each new home has a place for her photos. Kristi has traveled right along with her everywhere we have gone.

My family understands my sadness about Memorial Weekend and my anxiety about traveling that weekend. They know I reflect on the good times and the day my world changed forever. They know I’m grateful for having had such a fantastic person in my life. They respect my fear of traveling on holidays, how I want to do things differently than everyone else that weekend, and the importance of family, as we never know when one of us might be called home- sometimes too soon.

I dedicate this post to you, my sweet, amazing cousin, sister, and friend. Your humor, ambition, drive, and joy for life were never lost on me. You inspired me to be stronger and push through even when I thought I had nothing left to give. Thank you for challenging me to step out of my comfort zone and stand up, keep moving forward, and say things no one else would say- I’m a boat rocker! I am who I am today because of you, partly because of you, and I will forever be grateful. I miss you forever and ever!

This year is particularly poignant! My oldest and only son is graduating, and he plans to start his senior trip off a Memorial Weekend road trip, heading to Kristi’s hometown of Wray, Colorado. I have so many sweet and crazy memories of this place. Wray is a staple in the roots of who I am. I love that it means so much to Tristan. However, my nerves will fried, and my stomach in knots. I will be crying and messing with him driving away this weekend. Driving away at all. But I am so proud of him for honoring his family this way, this side of his family, my sweet cousin, and me with this journey. He is such a sweet young man, and I know Kristi would be so proud of him, too.

A Poem

I went to a party, Mom. I remember what you said. You told me not to drink, Mom, so I drank soda instead.

I felt really proud, Mom, the way you said I would. I didn’t drink and drive, Mom, even though the others did.

I know I did the right thing, Mom. I know you’re always right. Now the party’s finally ending, Mom, as everyone drives out of sight.

As I get into my car, Mom, I know I’d get home in one piece. Because of the way you raised me, Mom, so responsible and sweet.

I started to drive away, Mom, but as I pulled onto the road. The other car didn’t see me, Mom, and hit me like a load.

As I lie on the pavement, Mom, I wish you’d get here soon. How come it happened to me, Mom? My life bust like a balloon.

There is blood all around me, Mom; most of it is mine. I heard the paramedic say, Mom, I’d be dead quickly.

I just wanted to tell you, Mom, I swear I didn’t drink. It was the others, Mom, the others didn’t think.

He didn’t know where he was going, Mom; he was probably at the same party as I. The only difference is, Mom, he drank, and I will die.

Why do people drink, Mom? It can ruin your whole life. I’m feeling sharp pains now, Mom, like a knife.

I’m lying here dying, Mom, while all he can do is stare.

Tell my brothers not to cry, Mom. Tell Daddy to be brave. And when I get to heaven, Mom write, “Daddy’s girl” on my grave.

Someone should have told him, Mom, not to drink and drive. If only they had taken the time, Mom, I would still be alive.

My breath is getting shorter, Mom. I’m becoming very scared. Please don’t cry for me, Mom, because you were there when I needed you.

I have one more question, Mom before I say goodbye. Mom, I never drink, so why am I to die?

This is the end, Mom. I wish I could look you in the eye to say these final words, Mom.

I love you and goodbye.

AUTHOR UNKNOWN

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