Wednesday is the anniversary of Maria's death. Two years. How does one honor such a day? It's a question I've struggled with.
This year, kites kept flying through my mind. Kites? Yes, kites. And then I remembered Truman Capote's beautiful story, A Christmas Memory.
(This is the end of the story where he receives a letter with news his childhood friend has died.)
... A message saying so merely confirms a piece of news some secret vein had already received, severing from me an irreplaceable part of myself, letting it loose like a kite on a broken string. That is why, walking across a school campus on this particular December morning, I keep searching the sky. As if I expected to see, rather like hearts, a lost pair of kites hurrying toward heaven.
This year we're gathering at the cemetery to fill the sky with kites.
Praying for Wind...
Sabra
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Saw your story in Guideposts this morning. I felt like it hit me in the gut. My one precious sister passed away suddenly last 4th of July. We had always spent that day together. Even when she married and moved to Indiana, she always came home to spend the 4th with us. Last year was the first year she didn't come as her husband had been ill. She had a pain in her back after shopping that afternoon, layed down on the couch and within minutes she was gone. She was a people person. I am the introvert who enjoyed following in her wake. I was her Ed McMann. We have always hosted a crowd in our home on the 4th. In one way I think I can't do it without her. In another, I feel like we need to do it. Today, I miss my sister so very much. Thanks for listening.
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