Oh, hey. I almost didn't see you there, sweetie.
C'mere. Siddown for a bit, can you? I'm just finishing this up, I'll be right with you.
That? Oh, it's some sort of IPA. Yeah, cliche, I know. Hey, I like 'em well enough, now that the Northwest is mostly over the "can you top this" bitterness craze. Go ahead, try a sip.
Yeah? Well, it was seven bucks at Grocery Outlet. Probably a reason for that, eh?
It's been a long year, hasn't it?
Retired? Yeah. Still working into that. Your mom is running in circles over at school; more to do, fewer to do it. Kid brother still gaming 24-7, baby sis ready to spread her wings and fly off to college...
Would you be there now?
Getting ready to graduate? Doctor, lawyer, beggarman, thief? Would you be working, instead? Putting in your forty hours behind a wrench or behind a desk?
Would you be cadging a drink from me like this, nasty hoppy IPA or what?
How much else would we have shared?
Your younger siblings share almost nothing with me. Your sister and I are both theater buffs, but she's very different from me in every other way. Your brother? I don't get him and never have.
And I never got the chance to know you.
I wish I had. I wish I'd been able to grow with you, to share your happiness and sorrow. To know you, as I had hoped, all those many years ago. But this day came, and went, and so did you, forever one day old.
I don't miss you the way your mother does. For her you're a huge hole in her heart, a part of her she'll never find, the end of her dreams for and of you.
I miss the you who never was. The little girl, the young woman, the strong daughter who, in the best way of fathers and daughters, stood by me into the grave and carried my memory beyond it.
Instead, we have yesterday, and today, and then you'll be gone again. Here, have another sip. Yeah, it gets a little better after a couple. Still not very good. Seven bucks worth.
But let's have a last round, you and I. And grin and shake our heads and look away, and when I look back you'll be gone.
Until the next time, love. Goodbye. I love you. I miss you.
Goodbye.
Bryn Rose Gellar. March 1, 2002 - March 2, 2002
2 comments:
My sister has been gone 25 years now. We were not close but he death by depression hit me like a gut punch. It sped up moms death less than 2 years later as she just "gave up". This piece reminded me of what never was but could have been. Cheers Susan, Despite our differences I do miss you.
Every year, Chief.
Post a Comment