Reflect: Sunday the 21st marked 8 months.
Eight months of grieving and missing, and waking up and realizing that it wasn’t a dream, but that my sister is gone and I miss her every single day. I still find myself thinking, “Oh I can’t wait to share this with… I know that Debbie would love…”
Acknowledgement: It wasn’t until a day later that I really had a full, long cry of sobbing, angry, and sad tears of longing for my sister.
Find joy amidst the tears, always: I went back to her youtube channel and was watching videos she had posted for me throughout the years. I was trying to remember her voice perhaps. Hearing it made me realize just how much I missed it. Those quick chats, phone messages, and conversations I thought would always be available until two year’s ago reality clunked into view. Hearing the intonation of her sharing her thoughts in her vlogs throughout the years she lived in Hong Kong made me smile and laugh.
The tightness in my chest released with the flow of tears that over came me.
Communicate: While enjoying the view of our beloved, Portland Rose Garden recently I remarked to to my husband, “I sometimes find it hard to believe that she is gone because I feel like she’s right here with me, like in my heart, but I know the physical reminder is there.”
Maybe that is why it was so hard to watch the videos….because it reminds me that she isn’t here, physically any longer.
Miracle moment: I had a beautiful moment while meeting a friend the day before the 21st. She had just sat down and a dragonfly fluttered by and landed briefly on her head. It was beautiful, sleek, green, with iridescence.
I never would have thought it before, but whenever I see one, which has been very frequent this summer, I know it is a sign from Debbie. A little glimmer that her spirit has transformed and she is listening from afar.
I smiled and said, “It was a dragonfly! Whenever I see a dragonfly I feel like it’s a message from my sister, she’s here with me.”
I had a recurring dragonfly encounter while visiting Utah this past June. I was walking to and from my friend’s research building on a campus in SLC. I exited the building and made my way across the grass that laid underneath the scorching sun and 100 degree day’s heat. Suddenly, I was being ushered to my bus stop by a fluttery friend, a beautiful dragonfly. It flew with me for about a block and disappeared. Sure enough, on my way back hours later, the dragonfly visited again when I trudged back towards the building.
Same thing the next day.
Nature provides the best escorts, what can I say?
Take Action and Honor: This past month I completed a wish for Debbie. Well, really began the process after careful consideration, thoughts, and emails with a couple of her close friends. I began the process to archive her personal blog in order to create a book of her work that she cultivated while trying to cope, survive, and research her experience with cancer.
Find healing: It felt cathartic, and challenging to work on it extensively. I realized how important it was for my words to be as clear as possible in the creation of the forward and afterward, and the importance of the bibliophile I was writing about. Honoring her memory, her work, and her perseverance brought me closer to understanding what an amazing woman she was.
Small miracle moments of hope fly all around us. Sorrow has been transformed into something beautiful, effortless, and full of joy. Watch for rainbows and dragonflies friends. And of course, for sparkles in the light.
Dalai Lama on Loss:
5 thoughts on “8 months with dragonfly tears”
A touching tribute to Debbie, so proud of you both. Glad you are
moving forward with the book. Love, Dad
Your love for your sister really shows in this post, and its really sweet of you to turn her work into a book 🙂
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Dragonflies as little love bombs from your sister. I love this.
I was biking in the mountains along the river last night and a whole group of dragonflies were circulating around. It was so magical! And now that memory is even more sweetened with the thoughts of Debbie Dragonflies flying around.
The pain of loss is so profound. I love you.
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I love this! ❤