Fireflies at Dusk

I hung out with my not-by-blood fifteen year old strawberry blond kid sister last night. We talked, more like she talked and talked...and talked some more but it didn't matter. To her, I'm that non-family "grown up" that she can confide in and feel comfortable enough to ask awkward questions that would other wise make her blush if she were to ask her Mom. I feel special for that, to be that person for someone. At her age I was constantly searching for that person. I never did find her.

At dusk, feeling a little morbid, we went to where a good friend of mine is buried and drank tea. I told my sister the story of how she died and what she meant to me.

"Is there anyone you know now that you can compare her to?" she asked.
"Nope. She was in a league all on her own," I replied.

She was nine-teen when she died thanks to Crohn's Disease. That was five years ago and not a day goes by that I don't think of her. After reading The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold what I previously thought of Heaven has changed. I know it's fiction but Alice's version of Heaven is much more appealing. Rather than everyone "existing" in one common place, every soul belongs to their own personal Heaven, surrounded by everything they loved and were passionate about down on earth. My friend would then have an endless supply of Coca-Cola at her finger-tips.

I also like to think my friend was looking down on us last night. Something I very rarely see in my town is fireflies yet last night there were two of them flickering and dancing about the trees and tombstones. I'm sure it was my friend saying hello.