I’m a little late in writing, but two weeks ago today marked three years since you started your new life with Heavenly Father. I’m sure you’re very happy up there, working hard and loving much. But just so you know, we still miss you and remember you down here.
March 7th, 2011, I woke to a handwritten note, a pink balloon and a hug.
Two days earlier, I hiked a mountain for you. I brought along three of my dearest friends.
You know it’s funny, you never knew any of them. But they know you.
Lots of people know you, Erin. You left your mark on the world, through a lot more than a copper tombstone.
People remember you and think of you often. People want to know you and to feel your light.
Erin, Thanks for making eighteen months of my life sunnier. Thanks for making me laugh and giggle and talk like an idiot. Thanks for reminding me that life can pass you by if you don’t take silly pictures or do Dora puzzles. Thanks for teaching me how to say “Diego.” Thanks for letting me call you “Baby Erin,” even though you were (and are) centuries more mature than I am. Thanks for sharing my bedroom and never being selfish for more space, even when I was. Thanks for letting me dress you and doll you. Thanks for giving me and each of our siblings and parents special moments with you.
Thanks for making the three years since you’ve passed away miraculous. Thanks for looking down from the heavens and being my guardian angel. Thanks for teaching me how to write music and for giving me a voice (though that first song is completely God's). Thanks for teaching me how to cry for myself and occasionally for other people. Thanks for helping me know how to empathize with others. Thanks for being someone I can talk about, when other’s little ones slip away. Thanks for staying near my heart everyday and for being so darn cute in the picture I keep there.
March 7th, 2011, I fell asleep with dreams of tomorrow. I wanted March 8th to come so badly, so that I could forget again. So that I could let another year go by without wanting to drown myself in my tears.
Two days before, I called Dad for his birthday. We talked briefly of your upcoming celestial birthday, and he reminded me that I have never been home for a March 7th.
Tears came fast. I remembered that I am and have been alone.
But then you reminded me of something beautiful. You reminded me that even though I’ve never been home for a March 7th, I’ve always had pink balloons. I’ve always had mountains to climb and loved ones to climb with. I’ve always had rememberers.
People remember you Erin, and think of you often. I am one of these people. I cry for you unexpectedly, but I also smile at your memory regularly. Thank you for being my angel.
March 7th, 2011. Today I got to remember you. And God made today beautiful.
All my Love (and then so much more),
Rachel Jean
