Something Personal.

I have always been afraid of death.

I listened to that voice mail from your mom about 20 times in a row because I didn't believe it. 

When I called you later that day, it was the only time I heard you cry.

Your soft delicate skin being pulled tight around your aching bones.

Who knew you had so many freckles under that long, thick hair of yours?

Even as the cancer took your body, that selfish cancer, I was always jealous of your spirit. 
I was always jealous of your beauty. 

I never heard you complain, not even once. 

"One more month and I'll be done with chemo!" One week and two days later, you were gone. 

Your little sister called me at 9:00 PM on a Thursday to come over to your house, I knew something was wrong, but I just couldn't allow my self to think like that. 

Your family sat me down, your wonderful family.

"She fought really hard but she couldn't do it anymore. She loved you so much." These are the only words I remember form that conversation. 

My lungs collapsed. 

It was the first time that my heart has ever been broken.



I knew, driving home that night, that I needed to tell everyone, but how? What am I supposed to say?

So I didn't. I really regret that. It hurts me. 




I didn't go to sleep that night because I was afraid of what I would dream of.

The hardest phone call I had to make was when I called your sister to tell her couldn't speak at your funeral.
I so badly wanted to but I couldn't. I wouldn't have been able to get a word out. This hurts me too.  

All I want is to hear your voice one more time. Hear your laugh that gets a little too loud sometimes. 

We are taught in Sunday school what heaven is going to be, but I want YOU to tell me what heaven is like because maybe that would make dying a little less scary.

I have always been afraid of death.