Tuesday, March 12, 2013

Dear Stephanie: A Memory 2 Years Later

Dear Stephanie,

Two years ago this March, you left us for what I hope is a peaceful place.

It has taken me eight days to write this post, to form the words that could pay tribute to your life, your spirit and your soul, two years to the day. March 4th. I knew you for thirteen years, and yet I feel you know me still. Not a single day passes that my memory necklace hangs not from my neck, your photo encased in silver, remembering the Friday night coffees, countless conversations, movie nights,and dinner parties, remembering your sense of humour, your peals of laughter and your smile.

This year I've used an extended haiku style, slightly different than my past poetic tributes -  just days after your death, and one year ago, were -  to remember you.

Remembering Stephanie

Strong oak, beautiful daisy
Vibrant, lively, fun
Sadly wrenched  from youthful life.

Where spirit now resides,may
perfect peace preside;
Worlds we feign to understand

Dark, dark, ugly weeds planted
from such beauteous seeds
Now unearthed from sodden ground.

Death only memories springs.
Daisy yellow hue
Never wilts in memory.

--Sapna Sehgal, March 2013

As I sit here writing this, Stephanie, with a broken leg, I think of you and how I never once heard you complain about your disability, or even become angry at Muscular Dystrophy and how it so quickly restricted you. Here I am, in an "eight to twelve week" condition, amazed at your resilience, living life in your wheelchair. I remember how you used to reach things using the "grabber" arm (so useful!), zoom around once you had the electronic chair, and joke and laugh and smile, yet never complain. There was me - rushing, rushing, rushing - and you, peaceful, relaxed, taking one day at a time, living for now.

Life has forced me to slow down for a few weeks, to stay indoors, with my exam essays and applications waiting for me  - and I am remembering you. You would smile and tell me to chill and watch some TV or read a book. 

I miss you, Stephanie. I always will.

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