It's 1:22 in the morning and the only person I can think about is you. I had a moment, about 20 minutes ago, as I was going back to bed after letting the dog out where a memory popped in my head. It was a rather good memory, one of you. But it made the tears start flowing and they just wouldn't stop until I got my thoughts down.
When I was younger, I remember you made me some stationary. It stated something along the lines of "from the desk of Amelia Moore" or "With love from Amelia" or something like that. And on the top you had taken that picture of my mother, brother and I from Paula's wedding and just cropped it of me. You made me like 10 sheets but I thought they were made out of gold and I remember I used to write little notes on them to people and when I got down to the last sheet, I saved it forever until I found someone special.
I can't remember who I wrote to back then. Probably family members and friends who have long thrown those letters in the garbage. But I can remember that paper and how today I love my stationary and how I write people all over the world.
The day I found out you had passed was a normal Wednesday. I was sitting at work doing my normal things when Aunt Jane popped up on my phone. She didn't even have to say your name before I knew what she was calling about. And I cried, much like I am now, for the times I missed because of my stupid pride. Missed opportunities that I would never get back.
We both are/were stubborn women and I know that throughout the years, you loved me just the same, even when we had our disagreements. Heck, there are things on this very blog that you both loved to hear and also hated to hear. And I know that. It has always been easier for me to communicate by written word; a fatal flaw of sorts.
I hope you know that I loved you too. I have said many hateful words in the past. I have disagreed with things that happened and were said, but I still love and appreciate everything you did or tried to do for me. Even those things I had no idea about until long after the fact.
And I am sorry that Kevin and I couldn't have gotten married last fall. I will always remember the one comment to me when you said "Why can't you do it this year?" and I said something along the lines that we didn't have the money. You and I both know that I could have thrown everything I had and was given in my 25th year towards a beautiful wedding, but you and I also both know that isn't what my mother would have wanted. We are putting it where it rightfully should go, into a house that is ours for our future.
I guess I will leave this here. It is funny how grief gets you. I cried when I found out you had died and hell, I cried pretty hard when we said goodbye as a family. But then I went back to my life. I tried to show some support to your kids whose shoes I had been in 12 years before, but I went back to everything I had built after the funeral home.
Until February 16th at 1am when your memory reminded me that I won't be able to see you at my wedding this September and that you are no longer with us. Even if I don't show it, I remember. And it still hurts.
I love you Aunt Anne. Just as much as I loved you when you gave me that stationary and as much as I didn't want to admit I did when we had our differences.
Love your niece,