Dear Junie

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.

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.

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."

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.

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.