for emilie

Emilie darling,
I loved you like a sister. I asked you to be my matron of honor because you were one of the closest, dearest friends I've ever had--and probably ever will. I feel somehow as though part of my soul is missing now that you are gone; a void has opened that, I know, will never close. All of our other friends have written so eloquently about what you meant to them, about how you will be missed. But for all that you encouraged me to become a writer (nagged, occasionally!) I cannot seem to do likewise. My heart feels like lead, my eyes continually fill with tears, and my mind is a mushy fog. I flounder, helplessly, to find words adequate to express my feelings. So, instead, I am copying the words of a writer far more able than I:

We Remember Them

In the rising of the sun and in its going down,
we remember them.
In the blowing of the wind and in the chill of winter,
we remember them.
In the opening of buds and in the rebirth of spring,
we remember them.
In the blueness of the sky and in the warmth of summer,
we remember them.
In the rustling of leaves and the beauty of autumn,
we remember them.
In the beginning of the year and when it ends,
we remember them.
When we are weary and in need of strength,
we remember them.
When we are lost and sick at heart,
we remember them.
When we have joys we yearn to share,
we remember them.
So long as we live, they too shall live,
for they are now a part of us, as we remember them.
--Jewish prayer

I loved you, Emilie. I only pray that you knew just how much. May God bless and keep you, now and forever.