ᴊᴀɴuary ɴɪɴᴇᴛᴇᴇɴᴛʜ

january nineteenth

"Hi mom. It's been a year since I've last been here and life steadily goes. I'm about to get my masters which is mind blowing. This past year I've been interning at the hospital. We're studying embryonic cells and how bone morphogenetic protein affects implantation which can lead to early pregnancy loss. It's more complicated than that but I won't bore you with those details. They don't make much sense to someone who doesn't know much about such things. I love it though.

Dad is doing good. He still loves you, that will never change. He's still not seeing anyone but he seems content that way. He keeps plenty busy with a myriad of other things. Always up to mischief, I'm sure he was like that before me too, wasn't he? Auntie Beth is still with Mark. Four years now. I get the feeling he is going to propose soon. She'll say yes, of course. Brennan will be eighteen this year. An adult. The baby of the family and he's going to be an adult soon. In just a couple months he'll be graduating high school and in the fall be off to college. It's scary to think.

Not because he's going to be out on his own. Brennan can handle that. No that's not my concern. Mostly, well, I'm concerned for dad. I think when Brennan finally leaves the nest, so will Aunt Beth with Mark. That will leave dad alone for the first time since... since before you. I don't know how he's going to handle the revelation. I hope well but I can't help but fear otherwise. He's a tough guy but underneath all that he can be quite sensitive. I may have to visit him a lot more often if the case calls for it.

He says I remind him more and more of you every day. I think that's a compliment. It's no secret look wise I'm full on Cormican, but he says personality I am fully you. That when I laugh he swears you've come back, if only for a moment. I guess I'm lucky to have your laugh. I'm now your age when you met dad, which is crazy to think of.

Last time I was here I told you I'd met someone. Well, I blew that up. I pulled the panic chord. It's okay though. I cared for him but maybe it wasn't right. Would you give up on something if it was what was meant for you? You never gave up on me. I was your rainbow baby, the one you told doctors to save at any cost. Even though that cost was your life.

I hope I never make you regret that choice. Can you regret up where you are? I don't know. I don't know if I even believe in all that heaven stuff. Yet I still come here every year to talk to you. Hoping in some way you hear me. No, actually. I don't even think it's because I want you to hear me. I just want to speak the words even though I know they will never be answered.

Though I don't know my feelings on heaven and angels and all of that, I still think you look out for me because I look out for you. Everything I do, I do with you in the back of my mind. In a way I guess you're the angel on my shoulder everyone talks about. I always try to do my best by you and I think, in a way, that is what keeps me on a good path. I never want to do something to disappoint you.

I constantly wonder was I better or worse off to lose you at the start of my life? On one hand, I never really had to experience the loss of you. On the other, I never got to experience you, either. Daddy has always told me what you were like in love and Auntie Beth tells me stories of you as a kid but it's all second hand. Everything I will ever know of you will only ever be second hand.

And I didn't get to go to you when I needed you, not once. Not when I scraped my knee or when the kids picked on me for being dancing four-eyes, or when I was learning what it meant to be a girl or needed advice on dating, nor when I was healing my heart after it's first break. Sure I had Auntie Beth and I love her more than anything and I know how lucky I was for her to step up but even though she's the only mother I ever got to know she's not you. She may be your sister, but she's not you.

And just because I never really knew you doesn't mean I don't miss you. Above all else, I guess I just wish you could be able to know that. That even though I never got to know you, I still love you and miss you always. And I'm sorry. "

She took time to allow the tears to flow before she set a bouquet of flowers down and walked away from the simple gravestone that read:

Louise June Cormican
November 4th - January 19th 1994
Beloved mother, wife, daughter, sister, friend
To live in the hearts of those we love is not to die.

"Hi mom. I'm back, again. I guess that doesn't surprise you, actually. Well, I mean, given anything could, which it can't. But. I've come every year since I was seventeen and able to on my own. It was much easier when I lived in Portland. Now, in Nashville, it's a bit of a trip. But one that I will always, always make.

I'm twenty-four today. It's kind of crazy how fast time goes. It doesn't seem all that long ago I was swinging on tree limbs as father yelled at me to get down before I got myself broken to bits. I never was very good at listening to him. I still hang from trees, I guess no matter how many years pass some things will never change.

I got offered a job at the hospital as a geneticist, which isn't common for someone who hasn't finished their masters degree yet. Sure, I'm about to... but to already have the job, have had it.. it's really amazing. And I love it. I really do, I don't regret my career path even a little. It's only entry level, of course, but even so this job really is a miracle.

It seems to be that is what my life mostly is, just a random set of miracles. I shouldn't even be alive. Everyone knew that. It was a miracle, they said. For years of the start of my life, everything about me was just a 'miracle'. I lived, it was a miracle. I walked, miracle, I talked, miracle. I thought, I ran, I learned. All miracles. I defied every odd they stacked against me, all the way to the moon. I overcame. It was a miracle. But how could I ever see it as such when the price was you?

But everything has a price and I've had many years to accept that you were mine. That doesn't always make it easier, though. But I do make sure it inspires me in everything I do. No one needs to know why I push as hard as I do, except me. People always say I'm so different. Maybe I am. Maybe I always was. Maybe it's because so few know what it's like to have almost lost everything, to have almost lost their very life. So they have the luxury of being able to take it for granted. But I don't. I never have.

So I take every day for all it’s worth. I focus on my life and living it to the fullest. For not being foolish and for appreciating everything I have and not worrying about what I do not. Every year I grow wiser and more thankful for what I have, for this life you gave me.

Dad was here recently, I see. He brought your favorite flowers. Chrysanthemums, he said you liked them because you liked their name. I find it ironic now. They say every flower means something and chrysanthemums mean honesty, optimism, joy and long life. You definitely had those first three but... Well, the last seems almost ironically fated.

He's good though, dad. Everyone is. He's still overworking. He always has to be kept busy with something, I guess I get that from him. Neither of us can stand idle hands. As for Auntie Beth, I was right, Mark proposed at Christmas. They'll be married in the fall. She's really happy, he is too. She deserves it all and more. She's given up so much for me, it's nice to see someone give her their world.

Brennan chose the university of Portland. Which surprised me, honestly. He always talked about going away but when the time came he stayed home. Which is ironic, because I was the opposite when it was my turn. He's majoring in mechanical engineering. It's fitting, he's always getting his hand's dirty with something.

I've realized that I'm the type of person that always wants to make things better for those around me but I can't seem to get the will to do it for myself. It's always just been so much easier to focus on others than to be introspective of my own flaws and my own fears. Something that will always stick with me is that the doctors said your lasts word were 'save her'. In your last moments, you wanted me to survive, to thrive. I guess it's my turn now to make sure that happens. This year I'm really going to try to focus on that.

Focus on not holding back because of my fears and my flaws and my insecurities. I use to think shielding myself from certain things would keep me rooted and safe. But I'm starting to realize through recent events especially that what it's doing is actually the exact opposite, that life is too short to stay planted in one spot just because it happens to be safe there. It's preventing me from living, from truly experiencing the beautiful things this world has to offer. So, I'm working on that. I know that will cause new bumps in my road called life but I'm prepared for it. I've only got this one life you've given me, after all, I've got to make the most of it. Not just for you, but for me too.

I should get going though it's getting late and I've got a plane really early. Here are your flowers, like every year. They are purple hyacinth. If you're wondering their meaning? They mean 'please forgive me'.

This year she didn't let the tears stream down her face. Instead she gulped back the lump that had formed halfway through her speech and let out a breath. Silently she set down the flowers in front of the ever constant gravestone:

Louise June Cormican
November 4th 1965 - January 19th 1994
Beloved mother, wife, daughter, sister, friend
To live in the hearts of those we love is not to die.

Hi, mom. I'm twenty-five today. Twenty-five. That's a quarter century. That's how long you've been gone. Almost as long as you were here. But not quite.

Dad's good. He's smiling a lot lately. I think he's actually liking the empty nest thing. He jokes about how much he does, any way. Even though he's still got Bren. Bren's doing great. He's seeing someone now and oh mom is he ever smitten with this girl. It's great to see him so starry-eyed, and not just because I can make fun of him for it. Auntie Beth and Mark got married in September. It was beautiful. Small, but really beautiful. She shone, like you're suppose to on your wedding day. I couldn't help but wonder if you shone like that with daddy. But I know you did. There isn't anything earth-shattering to share family wise. Everyone is just happy.

I started my PhD, not that that's... really, news, is it? I was always going to, even with the job. I love learning. I feel like I can never learn enough. Plus, of course, the further I go with my education, the further I'll be able to go up with my career. I'm a year and a half into it and I still love it as much as the first day. I'm not a doctor, or anything, but I like that I get to make a difference in the field. Plus, soon enough, I'll actually have the doctor title. I still think that's so weird. I'll probably never use it, but... I'll have it. But that's news for another year, really. Not this.

Oh! Here's some news: I'm in love. His name is Rufus. He's amazing. I have a feeling you'd love him. Daddy sure does. They met at Auntie Beth's wedding and again right after Christmas. I met him back in March. We started dating in August, though. He was actually here, when I last visited you. He didn't ask much questions, I think that's why I love him so much. He knows when to speak and when to listen with me. He just came, let me come see you, and went to get us some coffee. He knows I love coffee. It's in my blood. I get that from you.

I've never told you about a boy before, not in any depth, any way, but this one is different. I mean, obviously, because I love him, but for so many more reasons too. Rufus is the first one I really told your story to, not just bits and pieces of you. But he wasn't the last. I finally told the world about where I come from, about what you did for me. About why I have to come to this gravestone just to talk to you. I told the world on your birthday. I thought that was a fitting way to do it. That was the day he told me he loved me. When I was at my weakest, he loved me the most. I realized then, that I loved him too.

One year ago I stood here and I made you the promise that I would finally take a chance, that I wouldn't let fear hold me back. I kept that promise, I think. I tried to, any way. I dove head first into things normally I wouldn't. Some of that really blew up, but I wouldn't.. I wouldn't take it back. There's been a lot of mistakes, regrets even, but I learned so much and even through the loss, I gained much more. I guess the saying 'you never really win if you don't try' is true after all. I tried, and I lost some. I lost a lot. But the things I won? Those are things that I couldn't imagine now not having. I wouldn't have reached love had I not gone through the hurt I did. I grew stronger, strong enough to, for the first time in my life, be weak.

I completely broke this year, I'm not afraid to admit that now. I learned just how damaging trying to carry all the weight yourself is. How cruel the world, and even the people in it, can be. I learned a lot. Believe me, it wasn't an easy lesson at all. It hurt like hell at parts. But they say there's beauty in even the most ugly of things, and I learned that was true too. I refuse to stop seeing the beauty in things because people showed me true ugliness. I wonder what kind of lessons you learned in life. That's what, I think, I miss most about not having you. I don't get to ever know, or ever learn, from you.

I'm letting go, though. Letting go of the hurt of not having you. Of the hate of feeling that I'm the reason I don't. The pain of the wrongs I've experienced through my life. I don't need to hold onto these things, I've realized that now, that it's okay to let go. It's a slow process but I've learned that that's okay. I can take it at any pace that feels right for me. There is no rushing healing.

This year there's no purple hyacinth. Just the one I got permanently on my ankle for you. This year, for the first time, I won't seek forgiveness. Instead I'll just send my thanks. Statice, for rememberance, and pink carnations. The carnation is the flower for January. Pink ones represents love for a mother, or love of a mother. I couldn't think of a flower more fitting for us. Your birth month flower was your favorite flower, Chrysanthemum. I bet you knew that, though, didn't you? I was going to bring you some, but I know that's daddy's flower for you. So you get these carnations, because you are my mother. You will always be my mother.

Setting the flowers down, she rested her hand on top of the cold stone for a moment before she stepped away from the gravestone that read:

Louise June Cormican
November 4th 1965 - January 19th 1994
Beloved mother, wife, daughter, sister, friend
To live in the hearts of those we love is not to die.