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| Dear Junie I miss you. Why did you leave life too soon? 43 is ridiculously young---you are supposed to live longer than all of us. You took such big bites of life---life itself overwhelmed you. For yourself, you did not think that death was applicable too soon, so while you were busy taking a hold of life by the neck ---death crept up on you and pounded in one moment and snuffed the life out of you and silenced you...cold turkey. |
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| Agghhhh...I know there is no turning back the hands of time but how can you be dead? How can Jun Bote be enclosed in a casket all so cold and silent. Jun Bote is equivalent to life, not death. Jun Bote is equivalent to laughter and guffaws, not deafening silence. June Bote is equivalent to exploration, not idleness. Jun Bote is equivalent to bursts of songs and funny dance strokes, not stillness. |
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| Dear Junie, I miss you. My heart cringes when I think of the last time I saw you---cold and unresponsive lying so deathly silent in the casket as though sleeping in quiet repose. Your body was hard solid---your ears felt like woodcarving---your plump cheeks were like rocks, clammy and unyielding. Only your hair stayed the same. I kissed your face---you were lying there "sleeping" in the midst of us all . How can a room that contains you be silent? As you looked like you were in deep slumber, your countenance in repose commanded attention like it used to be when you were so full of life. I cried, I cried a flood for you and what you must have gone through that tragic moment. What went through your mind as your car flew off the bridge? My heart aches for losing you my brother. This pain lurks in my heart every single day that I wake up to. It's been three months since the accident and my stubborn heart refuses to acknowledge the truth---as though it is still hoping this death story is someone else's from far away and not yours---and if it is, my heart whispers, "hush...hush...it's just a bad dream." |
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| Who am I to say "you're not supposed to die this young!" I know in my heart our days are numbered by God as His Word says so. May the Lord forgive me that I should think you've a hand to your early demise. I miss you...my heart aches for you...I am hurt and disappointed in you that you lived life hurriedly and left too soon. Junie, wherever you are right now, I pray that your soul is at peace with the Lord. I pray that your soul is at rest and know that you lived life fully, your way. |
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| I cannot seem to reach the bottom of this grief. I have a nagging pain in my heart that simply lurks inside. But life must move on. I will resume my life as a mother to Zach, a wife to Steve, a teacher to my students, but never as a big sister, ever again. I will resume my life with a gaping hole in my heart and always flinch at the thought of my young brother dead and physically gone forever.This thought shakes me to the core, because this means I will never hear him laugh again, or talk, or sneeze or tell a funny joke. I will never hear him sing with his eyes close or harmonize during our family meal prayer song. I will never hear him talk about God, or propose yet another business venture (that I always refused to go into). This means I will never see him walk in and out, or dance his funny dance strokes. This means I will never ever feel anxious for him and his adventures and living life on the edge. This means I will never ever have to continue hoping my big hopes and dreaming my big dreams and wishing my best wishes for him ever again. I miss him dearly. |
