Goodbye Samantha McCarthy
I step out of my car and take a breath as the wind blows past my face, and with a heavy and full heart, I walk up to your grave.
Three years have passed since I last stood here and cried, and yet I still remember how it felt when you died. “Time heals all wounds.” That saying is true, but I know I will never be as sad as the day we lost you.
I kneel at your headstone and flower your grave, and I send myself back to that very first day. I stand at the playground of Our Lady of Peace, and you sit on the bench plain as can be.
You seem somehow older, like you’ve aged up with me, but of course, I know, that surely can’t be. I sit next to you, and we say our hellos, and it’s as easy as it was 20-some years ago. You ask me how I’ve been, and I tell you what you’ve missed, and then as I finish, you say, “I was there for all of this.”
I smile to think of all you have followed, and then I tell you, “I’m getting married the day after tomorrow.”
“I know,” you say with a smile, “and I’m happy you got here; it’s taken a while.”
“I’m glad that you’re happy for me, but I must confess I feel guilty for how I’ve grown away from you,” I say, stressed.
“You’re allowed to move on,” you say, “in fact, I prefer it! I really hated to watch you going through it. But I understand why you don’t want to leave me behind. So I’ll tell you one thing you can do as a sign. Take one minute a day, or just whenever you can, to think about me and the others who couldn't stay.”
I smile and promise you I will try my best, and you tell me to go home and get some rest. I give you a hug, and as I bid my leave, I look at you and say, “Goodbye, Samantha McCarthy.”
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