I Am Missing You

I picked up the card from the rack, but it wasn't the birthday card that I was seeking. The card said "I am missing you" in stylish letters across the front. I bought it anyway, but won't send it. The person that the card is for no longer has a postal address.
It was a year ago today that my youngest sister died. Tradition used to dictate a year of formal mourning, but that's considered old-fashioned. Now we just muddle along as best we can. We don't wear black to announce that we're in a period of bereavement. No black wreath adorns our door.
At times the sorrow sweeps over me, but generally it's held inside. We don't want to burden others with our loss. They would express sympathy, but feel uncomfortable at continued displays of grief.
As time goes by, we get better at subduing and quieting these feelings. Is that good or bad? Does a lifetime of losses, both small and large, eventually become more than we can hold inside ourselves?
I take comfort in small reminders of my sister. Before the funeral, I gathered all the photos I had of her from my albums. I took them to Kansas with me to share with the family. Later I filled a small album just with her pictures and keep it on display.
I put one picture on my computer. The one I chose showed my sister with a good friend. I'd met her work friends at the viewing and they were as bereft as any family member. Over the years they'd confided in each other as they worked and these women were distraught with grief over my sister's sudden death. Seeing Shannon on my computer screen with this close friend comforted me.
Shannon and her daughters often wore clogs. I thought they were clunky, but didn't question her choice of footwear. This summer I tried a pair and found them very cushy underfoot and ideal for wearing in the garden. Now when I look down at the clumsy looking clogs on my feet, I can't help but think of Shannon each time.
She showed her artistic side with scrapbooking and stamping designs. I saved the unique cards she sent me. It pleased me to find more of her designs on the internet where she had posted them on stamping forums. Now and then, I google her name hoping to find some link to her that I've missed before.
I find myself keeping diet cherry Dr. Pepper in the refrigerator, even though I've always been a diet Coke drinker. Shannon always drank Dr. Pepper, so these remind me of my sister whenever I pull one out to drink.
She collected Beany Babies, those cute stuffed animals. Angels were another of her collecting interests. Recently I found a Beany Baby that combined both collectibles. The white teddy sported shimmering white angel wings and a halo. It looks just right under my smallest Christmas tree.
A few weeks ago, I spotted a jewelry display with name necklaces. There was one with "Shannon" in silver. Worn with the chain inside my shirt, no one else sees this small homage to my sister.
These may seem like trivial, even silly actions, but somehow they provide me with a link to this special person. I guess we each find our own ways to mourn and remember. We lack the formal mourning structure of Victorian days, but our hearts still seek ways to reach out for comfort.
I am missing you, but you are always in my heart.

Story ID:	3285
Written by:	Virginia Allain (bio, link, contact, other stories)
Organization:	none
Story type:	Family Memories
Writers Conference:	$500 2007 Family Memories Writing Project
Location:	Poinciana FL USA
Year:	2007
Person:	Shannon Hyle