I sit beside Kate’s tombstone after graduation. Placing my cap on top of the light gray marble, I imagine it on her head and smile.
I trace my fingers over her name. Kathryn “Katie” Browdy. Under it, the Celtic heart knot for hope is etched to match the symbols on the stones beside hers. Kate’s parents had loved the idea, and we all knew Kate would have wanted nothing else.
Tears roll down my face when my fingertips reach the words under the dates of birth and death. You are worth it, Katie. No regrets cross my mind.
“I did it, Katie,” I choke out. “I graduated. So now what?”
My gaze hangs on the marble as if it will answer my question.
“You said you had five wishes. That I had to wait until I finished each one to get the next. I’m ready now.”
A breeze blows through the elder tree behind me. I bow my head, tears spilling onto the new slivers of grass poking out of the dirt.
I look up when I hear tires crunch the gravel. My dad parks his car behind mine and steps out.
“I figured you’d be here,” he says and sits beside me. He takes in a deep breath, raising his head to the sky. “After your mom and brother passed, I came here every day. Sometimes, I slept out here between them.”
I stare at him, waiting for him to get to the point.
“It’s hard, son, but it does get easier. Though the pain never completely goes away, it lessens over time.”
I don’t know if I believe him. We sit together in silence for a few more minutes. Then he pats me on the back and rises to his feet.
“Come home when you’re ready,” he says.
“I will,” I mumble, watching him walk to his car.
He drives away, and I turn back to Kate. I shift my hand on the grass and feel a wrinkle beneath my palm. A white envelope lies on the grass. I glance up at the dust left behind my father’s car.
Swallowing, I pick up the envelope. I recognize the girly handwriting that had scrawled out my name. My stomach lurches as I rip it open. I unfold the paper, and my heart melts.
Dear Damian,
Congratulations! I always knew you could do it. Just like I know you’ll do well in college and pick some amazing career. Maybe you’ll be a musician; I love hearing you sing.
This letter isn’t easy for me to write. If you’re reading it, it means I’m gone. I know you’re hurting. And I’m sorry. I wish I could take it away somehow. But then again, I don’t. Pain has a purpose. It makes us stronger. More compassionate. Able to love more deeply than we thought possible. If we let it, it makes us better people. That’s my hope for you.
You know, I used to think that being strong meant not getting emotionally involved. Becoming separate and passive. Unattached. Damian, I was wrong.
Being strong means allowing yourself to cry over the things you can’t change; laugh when things are funny; smile when you’re happy. It means understanding where your breaking point is, and yet, going further and still remaining whole. Strong people push themselves to the limits of pain and joy. They fall to their knees in agony, then they lift up their faces to find the beautiful morning rays shining down on them, and they rise to their feet. Being strong means never giving up, no matter how crushed you are, and finding happiness in the smallest parts of life.
I learned that being brave is the hardest thing in the world. That it hurts. That it tests everything you believe in and more. I realized how unbrave I actually am and how that’s okay. I’m so glad you are next to me right now. You give me courage.
I’m scared when I think about you reading this. I imagine you in your room, in your cap and gown, in two weeks. That’s as far as I can see, though.
But, Damian, I was wrong about something. I thought death was a journey I’d have to take alone. You have no idea how happy I am to know it’s not. I see your face, feel your touch, and I know how much you love me. Because of you, I’ll never be alone.
I promised you five wishes; do you remember? I said you’d get the last one after you graduate. So here it is. My fifth wish.
This one might be the hardest one because it may seem like you’re doing it alone. You won’t be; I’ll be with you.
My last wish, Damian, is that once you’ve read my diary, you’ll put it in a box. Place it in the attic somewhere and leave it there. Let it collect dust.
That’s not all, though. You have a whole life in front of you. Don’t waste it. Don’t dwell on the past. Move forward.
Life isn’t about merely surviving. It’s about living.
Damian, my love, my final wish is for you to let me go.
Love Always,
Katie
The End