10 Years

I'll never forget the sky that night.  It was this remarkable painting of oranges, pinks, purples, and golds.  The kind of sky that only God can be responsible for.  I sat in the driver's seat of my car and looked up in wonder.  Tears brimming my eyes, I knew that I had just said goodbye to my cousin.

Before my sister was born, I was the "baby" of my mom's side of the family.  My two older cousins were both 10+ years older than me.  I was so fascinated by them and their teenage lives.  Melissa, my oldest cousin, had already gone to college by the time I had sleepovers at my aunt's house.  I knew the bedroom at the end of the hall was her room.  She was away at Western Carolina finishing her degree in elementary education.  My year as a first grader was her first year as a first grade teacher.  I remember visiting her classroom and thinking that it would be "cool" to be like her when I grew up.

Melissa had a wicked sense of humor.  We would cut up and make each other laugh whenever we were together.  She gave me my first babysitting job and always treated me like an adult - which I adored.  She let me come swim in her family's pool during the summer.  Sitting under the umbrella'ed table, I remember smiling as she told me stories about growing up with my other cousin and my aunt.

Her diagnosis was a huge blow to our family.  Cancer isn't suppose to happen to young mothers who just finished their master's degree.  Cancer isn't suppose to wreck the body of a woman in her third decade of life.  Cancer isn't suppose to happen period, but certainly not to someone as young and vivacious as my cousin.

There were rounds of treatments, lots of doctor's opinions, and the overall impression that she would make it through this.  By the time I left for college in the late summer of 2004, the prognosis had taken a grim turn.

During that first semester of college, I remember coming home one weekend and going over to see her.  She was lying in bed when I dropped by.  She weakly woke up and smiled.  Trying to have a conversation, I was shocked by how small she looked.  At that point, she had to have oxygen and the whole set up just devastated me.  To see someone who had only two years before been so full of life...I couldn't quite comprehend the situation.

I don't think I quite realized that we were spending the "lasts" with her.  The last birthday or last Christmas as a complete family.  I didn't know she wouldn't see me graduate college or have my first classroom.  I didn't know then that I wouldn't get to come home and tell her all the funny stories that teaching had given me.  I didn't know...or perhaps, I just didn't want to know.

On April 14th, 2005, I received a call from my mom that things had taken a turn for the worse and that I should come home.  I cried and paced and hollered so loud that my dorm hall neighbor came by to check on me.  I was lost.  My friend Kelly met me at UNCG and quickly helped me pack my car to go home.  She kept on asking if she should drive, but I stubbornly said no.  I just needed to get home.

I dropped Kelly off and quickly went to the hospital...dread and anticipation creeping up in my throat.  Climbing the floors in that elevator, a quiet calm had taken over my body.  I walked down the hall to her room.  There were all sorts of people fluttering around.  My mom hugged me and said that I should go in and speak to her. She looked so frail and small in the bed.  I tried to brightly say hello, and she quietly thanked me for coming.  I answered that of course I would have come.  We exchanged, "Love you's" and I weakly smiled and backed out of the room.  I couldn't handle the look of everyone's faces.  They all knew...we all knew.

Sitting in my car that night, I was shell shocked that this was happening.  When my dad came in the kitchen to tell me she had passed away, I just shrugged my shoulders and nodded in acceptance.  There was a chill numb that came over me and stayed for several hours.

It took me a long time to come to terms with her death.  It took me a really long time to forgive God.  I was angry at Him for a long time.  Peace didn't come for several months and even after that, it was still hard.  Family Christmas was weird for several years after that...only in the recent years have they returned to some sense of normal.

Ten years later, I still think about her often.  I will occasionally dream about her smile.  I think about her every time I see an evening sky that takes my breath.  I think about her every time I see her children and how grown up they are. I know she's laughing and having a ball in heaven.  Breathing with new life and a renewed body.

I hope that she knows how much I love her and miss her.  Life isn't the same.  But, how can it be after a loss like that?

The grace in all of this is that I've learned not to take life for granted - cliched as that sounds.  It's true though.

I will forever remember her smile, her love of her kids and family, and her devotion to education - which I try to honor in her memory every day.

I can't wait to see you again, my sweet cousin.

Melissa Seitz Copeland
1969-2005