If only.

Hey all. I wrote a story, and I like it, but I'm not gonna post it today. I'm gonna give you link to it for my Wattpad, but I'm gonna talk about my Aunt, Cindy Given. A year ago today she went to be with the LORD. She left behind a husband and two grown sons. They all miss her. I miss her, too, but I only wish I could have known her better. I only saw her a few times, but I know that I loved her. She was an amazing person who loved her family, and battled breast cancer for a long time. She has touched the heart of many. And I'm gonna let myself go back to that morning when I found out. (Of course it's not completely accurate, but I waned to put the feeling down on a page.)

"Mom?" My sister asked. "Is she..." My mother nods, and I feel a pang of sadness escape from where I had put a wall. I knew this was coming, we knew she would be gone before morning. But I guess I hadn't thought much about it. I take a deep breath, wishing I was crying. Wishing I was breaking down right now, not just standing there, numbly. But not a single tear comes out. I turn around and walk up the stairs, running to my room, trying so hard to think of some significant memory to remember about her. Not a lot comes to mind. Sitting wish her at the pool after My great grandma's funeral, watching her hold my little sister seven years ago and snuggling with her. Giving my family a tour of the hotel her and my uncle owned for a while. Too little, all too little did I know her. And now I'll never be young enough to run and hug her again, almost knocking her down, and even if I was, I'll never get the chance. I climb onto my bed, grab my pillow and hug it, finally letting all the tears escape. They rush down my face in a river of pain and wishing.
"If only." I whisper. "I wish I could've talked to you just one more time, asked you how you're so strong, how you love so much, I wish..." I shake my head. "No." I take a deep breath, a sharp feeling in my throat as I do so. "You can't feel sorry for yourself. You can't wish you knew her better, can't wish she was back. You barely knew her. You don't deserve to miss her." I close my eyes, and open them again. The pain is still there, the tears are still there. And she's still gone. "You need to stop, you need to stop thinking about yourself. Just remember, your father, his brothers and sisters, Aunt Cindy's husband and sons. They miss her more. They miss her more then you could guess." I mutter a prayer for my family and thank God that she's home now, with no more pain. I feel like I should be doing something. I feel like I should jump on a plane to New Hampshire and hug my father tight and sit next to Uncle Aylmer and hold his hand and cry with them. But I can't do that. I can't go anywhere. I'm just here, in my messy room, grieving alone. But God is taking care of people in NH, all of them together, crying and being happy that at least in this time of pain they're together. I know because when I Skyped with my father yesterday I saw so. They're smiling in the midst of pain. "I'll see you again, Aunt Cindy." I whisper. "I miss you more then you know, or then I know. Only god knows, and I know if anyone is in heaven, if anyone deserves to be dancing with Jesus right now, it's you. I love you." I close my eyes, letting  little bit of the pain out with a small sigh. "I love you more then I think."


Dedicated to Cindy Given.

(You can read my dad's blog post about my Aunt here)

(you can read her Obituary here)