The sun was strong and the air was crisp and we marched up the hill. We traveled in twos and threes, the mass of us turning into a line stretching long and thin. We were silent, save for the click-clack of heels on the pavement.
You were 25 when you died, and had gathered friends throughout your years. And they all came, from elementary school teachers, to high school friends, to travel your companions in Spain. They came to witness the end, to try to make sense. They came to bury you, to say goodbye, to find solace in remembering. But most of all, they came.
Except for one. Did you know that? All of the cousins came. Jane was there and Sally and Joe. Lauren and Diana and Stephanie came. Even Josh showed up. Only Allison didn’t come. She said it was too hard to travel across the country, couldn’t leave her kids behind. It was an excuse and we weren’t in the mood. We thought her choice was unforgiveable. We didn’t shun her, but didn’t go out of our way either. That was 9 years ago.
A few months ago, I got an email from Allison. She regretted that she hadn’t been there. Said it was one of the biggest regrets of her life. She was sorry, wanted a relationship. I thanked her for getting in touch.
Remember when Grandma was dying? Dad got in a fight with Uncle Paul about the shared responsibility of her care. Dad didn’t want to forgive then either, said he was done with his brother. But you told him to make amends. You told Dad he had to forgive, because he is his brother.
But you see, Bill, without you, I don’t have a brother or sister. I need our cousins to play understudy. So I’m going to forgive her. Try to have a relationship if I can. I think it is what you would have wanted.
And if it isn’t, I hope you’ll forgive me.
