Remembering Katie

Happy Birthday

to you

ashes scattered by the fingertips of the wind

A collection of faces silently wondering where you've been

Together they sit and remember your name

Uncomfortable laughter uncomfortable pain

And here I am

alone with you

Your formless breath

settles like dew

upon the surface of my heart

once drenched in sadness

and in anger torn apart

I breathe out and I breathe in

Your presence carried

by the hands of the wind

Happy Birthday

to you.

I remember the day I met Katie. We had a mutual friend who couldn't wait for us to meet. We drove out to the coast where Katie lived and it was a sunny, breezy day. The three of us laughed all day! Katie was intelligent, insightful, and wickedly funny.

I knew her casually for the first couple of years and fortunately got to know her better during what would be her last year. I knew her health was getting worse and that there wasn't much time. I asked myself if I was ready for this kind of a loss. I decided I was more ready for what she would bring into my heart by becoming a closer friend.

The day of the funeral was brutal. I admired our mutual friend for her composure and grace in what was more painful for her (she had been Katie's friend since they were children), but that is her nature. I'm different.

I have a red hot button labeled "anger" inside me. When a specific person approached the podium to talk about Katie I was outraged. There was a history between Katie and this person. I knew Katie loved this person and had made her peace with said individual long before dying, but I had a harder time forgiving and forgetting. I was sitting near the front of the church. I stood up in the middle of what my rage considered lies, disrespect, and general bull****. I noisily and roughly made my way down the row of seated mourners to the middle aisle of the church. When I reached the door I swung it open and slammed it behind me with all my adrenalin powered strength.

I was in a rage. I paced outside the building, shaking and making little animal sounds, trying not to scream. When the anger passed I felt like I had been the one who was disrespectful. Why couldn't I be more forgiving like Katie? Why couldn't I hold it together like our mutual friend? I felt guilty for what I had done. I sat inside our mutual friend's car with her dog and cried into his furry neck.

A year later Katie's family and friends organized a get-together to remember her life. That's when I wrote this poem.