It is not my intention to offend anyone with this. In fact, it is my hope that I will not...
While my sister, Melissa, was in the hospital this summer, I was reminiscing, and mentioned to my daughter, Meagan, that Missy and I used to write letters to each other through the years. Meagan asked if I had one, so she could see Missy's actual writing.
The day that Missy died, I was going through some things, looking for my Dad's obituary (which Missy had written), so I could use it as a model. I found a note that Missy had sent me during our Bad-Words-Are-Funny phase. She had addressed me as "Shitbiscuit," and signed it, "Love, Fuckbucket." It made me smile to see that again, so I took it with me when I met Meagan for lunch. I pulled it out and said, "Here's Missy's writing." Once Meagan stopped laughing, she told me that she had planned to have a bracelet made for me with Missy's name, in her own writing. Just picturing that kept me laughing throughout what would have otherwise been a day filled with tears.
The next morning, as I sat looking out the window, I suddenly knew that Missy wanted me to have that bracelet.
One more Missy memory to treasure -- thank you so much, my Meagan.
