Magic Soakin' My Spine

It's been a year. Today makes one year since our girl left this world. Of course I've been reflecting all morning. And what I've discovered is a little bit off putting. It's this: I'm not as sad as I thought I would be.

That's not to say I'm not sad. But that tearing stabbing in my heart now feels more like a ripple of goosebumps passing directly through it when I think about Kate. Time (you sly minx), as they say, DOES, I guess, heal all wounds. And I'm not so naive as to think it was Time alone (no, you don't get all the credit you slow moving sonofabee). I think we did it right. We grieved right. I say we because I think our grief, not just mine, but my parents and my brothers and my Chip and my Hanna and my Mary Jo and my Becki, we were relentless. We talked about Kate every chance we could.

At family dinners, an outsider would think we're all nutso. We talk about Kate so much that our stories are fairly repetitive but we don't care and we never tire of them. We don't hush up our sadness. We don't try to hide it anywhere or save it for later. We cried together and we reminisced together and we HEALED together. And it wasn't just us either. We had so many beautiful tributes to her that I think also helped us heal.

Thanks to sweet Jessica Monaldi Vocke, we have a plaque and a tree in the 8th floor rooftop garden with Kate's name on it. And there was a little memorial service when they unveiled that. And Derek still comes to dinner sometimes and what do we talk about of course? Our girl. And Bryen and Mr. Greengenes sing songs for her, for us. And people walk for her in cancer walks and light candles for her and all of those things, each one is like a tiny little sliver of tape on our shattered hearts, and slowly putting it back together.

And when I first woke up this morning I was laying in bed thinking about my own loss. I was feeling sad for what I will never get to experience again, the joy (and sometimes complete and utter frustration) of having my sister Katie in my life. I felt sad for me. And for Hanna. And all my family. But it doesn't feel so acute anymore. But then I thought about Rikki. And that's when I started to cry in earnest for this day.

Rikki is JP's girlfriend (they just moved to Texas for 13 weeks for travel nursing ya'll!!). Rikki is so wonderful and amazing and I really truly feel luckier than all the people on this planet, who don't know her. And she never got to meet Kate. Her and JP started dating shortly after Kate passed away. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure she feels like she knew Kate. Because of our constant talk of her every chance we get. But of course it's not the same.

And suddenly my grief, which felt small-ish and contained, now looms large again, like a giant balloon expanding inside me and my breath catches in my throat and I think, It Isn't Fair! I have all these wonderful memories of Katie but Rikki has none. It isn't fair that she will never meet Kate, never get to learn first hand what an amazing, wonderful, scary, beautiful, thoughtful, temperamental, giving, loving person Katie was. And that makes my heart have the stabby feeling again for a little while.

But crying is so good and it gets all the bad stuff out and clears my head so that I can remember the good stuff, like the fact that Rikki can at least enjoy our memories of her. And that even though Kate isn't here physically in our life anymore, she'll always be a part of us. And for that, I am so grateful.