 | It's been nearly six years. Many people would say I should be over it by now, but I don't think I'll ever be over my sister's death. I was only twelve when my sister committed suicide. Jeri Lynn was sixteen. She had just started her junior year of high school when she decided to take a bottle of sleeping pills.Six years later, I was still holding on to some of the feelings I'd kept inside since her death. I had a lot to say to Jeri. I never got the chance to tell her things I would have liked her to know. I had a need for closure, if that was at all possible.
People suggested that I write her a letter, but it never felt right for some reason. However, I finally reached a point where I had to do something to let my feelings out. So, one night, I sat down and wrote Jeri a letter. I told her everything I had felt since her death. I explained why I felt such guilt and sadness, who I was angry with, and all of the memories I was grateful for. Then I told her I love dher.
A few days after writing it, I took the letter to the cemetery. I sat down at Jeri's grave and read the letter to her out loud. Actually hearing the words made it more real.
These intentional actions were really helping. I was doing something in an effort to move on with my life. I knew I was doing the right thing. I wanted, though, to take this one step further. I put the letter and my heartache in four helium-filled balloons. I went back to the cemetery and just sat quietly at Jeri's grave with balloons in hand. I told myself I could sit there until I felt ready to let go. I thought of how much I loved Jeri and realized we both needed this.
When it was time, I stood up and released one balloon at a time. As each one made its way up, I could feel my heart becoming lighter. The burden of grief I carried was finally loosening its grip on me.
When I released the last one, I whispered, "I love you, Jeri." And for the first time in six years, I could love her without the pain and guilt that had for so long been attached to that love. I knew Jeri was smiling down on me. I had learned once of the most important lessons about love and life. I had learned the importance of letting go.
Written by Kelli Czarnick
Submitted by Sarah Pegues |  |
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