Flashback Friday....Ten Years

In October of 2014, I went to visit old friends in the "way up there part" of Michigan. I drove up one side of the state...crossed over to Alpena, spent two days...

and came back down the other side.
I probably knew why I took this route before hand, but I didn't know if I would have time to do what was in the back of my mind.

I "wrote" this by recording my thoughts into my notes on my phone. I meant to post it upon my return, but never did.

It's been 10 years since my friend, Jolene's passing.
I thought it would be a good time to share about the special spot I visited on my way home from my Michigan Road Trip:

I knew when I left I would probably end up here at some point in time.

Since I ended up leaving from Lowell, I thought maybe it wouldn't happen. But, the return route took me too close to her hometown, not to stop.

I SHOULD have been at work.

I was scheduled to be at work instead of here. But, since I knew in the back of my mind I would stop,

I called and asked to take an additional half a vacation day.

It took me longer than it should have to find the place. I don't remember the cemetery being so small. I passed it twice going west. And finally, realized I could not find it because trees hide it from the east.

I thought I was just coming here cause it was the right thing to do.

Stopping, to say hello to an old friend.

Stopping, out of respect for she and her family.

Stopping, to see her name on a headstone; the stone that was yet to be set the last time we all stood here.

Awhile ago I read about why people leave coins on gravestones.

It's to let the living know that their loved one's grave has been visited.

After I finally found the cemetery and parked the car, I carefully counted out eight pennies and put them in my pocket.

I went to where I remembered standing the day of her funeral.
I went too far and the first stone I saw, was Baby Miller.

There were no other Millers in that row.

I thought, surely they got her a headstone?

I turned and saw the back of a brown stone.

As I came around the front of it,
there was her name:

I have been to a lot of funerals,
and I have walked my fair share of cemeteries.

But, I was not prepared for the catch in my throat and the instant tears upon seeing her name etched in granite.

I think of Jolene often.

I always mention her on the anniversary of her death. 

Every year, I go and get an ice cream cone during the week, because that is what I did that week in July of 2006.

I sit on the steps in the sun and remember this sweet girl.

So, it's not like I'm in denial that she is gone.

But, something about etchings in stone make things seem very real and very permanent.

The rain started to fall lightly, as if it was mirroring my tears.

I whispered, 

"Here you are."

"Hello, sweet girl.

"I thought I wasn't going to be able to find you."

And with that, I imagined her alive...
jumping up and down, waving her arms, flagging me down by the side of the road, saying:

"Here I am...

I'm right here!" 

And flashing that beautiful smile and laughing uncontrollably like she always did!
And with that, as quickly as the tears had come, I was now laughing out loud in the middle of the cemetery.

As I did, I smiled and thought, 
now this is like a real visit with Jolene!

I took the pennies out of my pocket,
I sat down on the grass in front of the stone and laid them on headstone one at a time.

One for each year that she has been gone.

I talked and talked and talked about the time that had passed.

2006...the year it happened

2007... all those weddings
2008...my Dad ♥
2009... all that happened...2010, 2011...
2012...changes at the Bookstore
2013...Chris ♥

2014...clarity, plans, the present and the future.

I stood back up.
I wondered about her family.

I wondered about her parents and their unimaginable grief.
I wondered if they still lived nearby and I wondered if they were in one of the cars that drove by while I stood there.

I thought about her nephews and prayed for the hope that even tho they were very young, they would never forget their Aunt Jolene.

I told her, I can tell that they love and miss her...
Because of the Flowers of Fall colors,
the solar lights, the statues, engravings with sayings...
The telltale signs of a person who is always loved, always missed.

The tears came again,
as I couldn't contain my sorrow for what might've been for this young lady. 

I felt anguished, as I apologized that she had so little time. So much life that she missed. I told her I had wanted so much more for her. 
I told her I still don't understand.
Because, I know, "God does not need another angel."
He doesn't "need her more than we do."
None of those answers are good enough.
I told her Lisa gave me the most peace, when she simply said:

"Nance, it was an accident."

I told her I will never understand...until we meet again. And, maybe even then, it still won't make sense.

I put my hands in my pockets and shut up.

I listened.

I was I reminded how at one point in time, I had given her permission to snap her fingers in front of my face if I got a little too grumpy or took things too seriously as a manager at the store.
She would, occasionally, do this...
walk up to me, two snaps...criss/cross in front of my face, flash that smile and laugh out loud.
And that was my cue to "snap out of it,
To lighten up.
To enjoy the moment.

I stared at her name.

I could see her smiling.

She knew that I was getting it....

That standing before the grave of a wonderful person, who died at the age of 23...
should make you think about your life.

I promised to do better.

I gave her full permission
that on the days that I think Life isn't enough, or the moments I waste away, waiting for a day off or the next big thing,
to get right in my face and snap those fingers,

Waking me up, reminding me,
I have this day.
I have this moment.
Do not take it for granted.
Do not waste it or wish it away.

I will remember this girl and what she wouldn't give to have just one more day.
To Be Alive.

To Be Present

To Be Here Now. 



Directions to here:

"Sweet girl, I know you are not here. 

The thought of the Earth or a Stone containing your spirit and soul is as laughable as your smile or your infectious personality.

But yet I am here.

I'm here to laugh with you, to cry with you, to remember you.
Thank you for listening and as always, giving more sweetness than we or life ever gave you.
These six words aren't enough.
But I will say them anyway.

I love you
I miss you."