An interaction with a source who seemed to get cold feet about a very personal interview yesterday reminded me why I wear this ring on my right hand.
It goes with me every place I go.
The cheap silver has tarnished into a dull gold. The cursive L reminds me of the girl my family lost almost 15 years ago.
It reminds me of the grief my family has been through, the strange feeling of picking up the pieces of your life off the floor. Of figuring out how to be a family when a vital part of you is missing.
The yellowed, curling newspaper clip I keep from fall of 1995 isn’t one of the many spot news pieces published the day after my sister’s car accident. It’s not a clip of the story where the reporter talked to her soccer teammates. It’s not her obituary, in which my name is misspelled.
A sports columnist for a weekly paper in our town wrote the piece I’ve kept since I was nine years old. He had covered her in high school sports and wrote the column as he was looking at her soccer mug shot.
In the column, he mused over the death of a high school senior and what that meant for us, her family. He approached the subject with care, compassion and thoughtfulness.
There’s a reason I kept his column. I haven’t forgotten the warmth in those words.
Lindsey’s ring reminds me to write like him, to remember the people I write about are human and so am I. His column is proof of that.
Maybe someone else will find value and closure in my writing. Maybe someone else will hold on to my work, too.
Emily, What a beautiful piece! Your older sister walks alongside you in many ways.
Thanks, Chris.
Hit reply too soon. I meant to say: Thanks, Chris. I’m glad you liked it. :)
Wow. Emily that was really an awesome piece. You are a great writer and I know that something you write (or may have already written) will be cherished the same way.
Thanks, Rach. I hope so.
Emily,
Your blog entry was poignant and meaningful. I’m so sorry you lost your sister.
It’s heartening to be reminded of the sensitivity and decency of fellow friends working in media today. I’m glad you chose this profession because you want to make a difference. We have that in common. Thanks for a good read.
Warmly,
Toby McCrae
Thanks, Toby. I do want to make a difference, and I’m glad you want to do that, too.
That was a beautiful piece of writing — up to if not above the standard of the clipping you treasure. Thanks for opening yourself up and letting everyone see a glimpse of what inspires you as a writer.
Thanks, Terry. Sometimes it’s hard to figure out how to share pieces of our past. I figured this would be the best way. I’d like to know what inspires everyone else to be a writer, too. Hmm, new blog post?
Emily: Thanks for your sensitive perspectives, and the courage to share them with the rest of us. Sorry you experienced what you did, and a salute to you for turning it into something that certainly benefits others.
On a side note, I had no idea you’re from Crown Point. Me, too.
Thanks, Anthony. It’s been a long time, but I have to remember to chase my dreams because Lindsey never got to do that.
And, we need to have a CP discussion! Small world.
Emily, that was beautiful. Lindsey would be so proud of you. Have you ever let Mark Smith know how you were influenced by him? We got to know him a little bit after that, and it would mean alot to him.
Vicki: I tried to send you a reply last week, but apparently it didn’t work. I’ve tried to contact him, but the e-mail bounced back. Do you have a current e-mail address for him?
this was wonderful. thank you for the reminder.
Dear Em, I just read your blog, and I to have a favorite clip of our Lindsey. I do believe she walks beside us. I miss her too. Love You, Aunt Renee
Big hugs to you and your mama today- so glad your lives went on and you came into our lives! The way you two have triumphed over this tragedy is a real inspiration to me and to many, many others. Looking forward to the upcoming joy you will get to share!
Love,
Anne Jones