“Goodbye, sweet one,” I whispered.
After the burial we all left the cemetery. My stomach twisted in knots as I drove back to the church. The slideshow didn’t bother me. Standing in front of hundreds of people did. Thankfully Anastasia gave me a letter to read to everyone, although I promised not to open it until it was time to read it. So at least I didn’t have to prepare my own words to stumble over.
People arrived in the church hall a little at a time. When it seemed like almost everyone found a seat and began eating, Vasili walked up to me.
“I’ve got something Anastasia wanted me to show everyone,” he said. “She said for you to do yours right before.”
I nodded.
He stood on a small stage, microphone in hand, and pointed toward a screen.
“Attention, everyone. As many of you know, Anastasia spent the last few months preparing her own memorial service. During that time I saw her writing a lot of letters and asking others to help her plan surprises. I knew she’d eventually ask me for help and sure enough, she did. On December 22 her health severely declined. We hoped she’d make it to the surprise we had for her on Christmas Eve, and she did, barely. On December 23rd she asked me to record a video of her saying goodbye. I’m going to show that video today, but first a dear friend of ours, Sarah Jordan, has something to share.”
The letter in my hands, still sealed, shook terribly as I walked up to Vasili and took the mic. I stood somewhat sideways and positioned myself so my scars were less visible, then handed Vasili a disc. “She wanted this to play.”
He walked away and within a few seconds the slideshow started.
“The pictures taken on this slideshow were shot only weeks before today.” I tapped my foot, hoping to dispel my anxiety. “She wanted me to read a letter while these images were shown. I haven’t read it yet.” I opened it and unfolded the paper. “So here goes.”
Dear family and friends,
A lot of you think of me as happy. It’s true, we have happy memories together, but today I want to admit something.
Daddy always told me to think good thoughts. He said bad thoughts make bad people. I’ve been trying to have good thoughts since they told me I have cancer and when kids at school made fun of me when I got burned. For lots of days I’ve been trying to be happy because I hoped maybe my happy thoughts would keep me alive.
It wasn’t working but I learned something anyway and that’s why I had these pictures taken.
I may be young but I’m not stupid. I knew I was dying for a while and even when people tried to hide the bad news from me I saw it on Mom’s face. I had a lot of bad dreams and thought a lot of bad thoughts until one day it clicked.
I thought I could stay strong for my parents so my last days were happy for all of us, but still write everyone to say the truth.
My truth is that I’ve been sad and angry sometimes. I saw stories of kids who smile until they die of some disease and end up on the news and I secretly wanted to end up on the news too, but that’s not for me.
Because my truth is I haven’t been smiling inside all this time, just outside.
I want to live to be sixteen and drive a car. I want to see my cousins who aren’t born yet. I want to eat Dad’s famous brownies on my birthday next year. I want to have four babies of my own and a cute husband who looks like my dad. I want to travel to Greece and see where my grandparents lived. I want to do a lot of things and I can’t. That’s made me sad a lot, but I smiled for my mom. She couldn’t handle it any other way.
The reason I’m saying this now is because I don’t want to be another story of how dying is easy and happy, because it’s not. I’m excited to meet God and the angels, but I’m sad to leave all of you.
So for my last words I don’t want to pretend anymore and I wish for everyone in the world to stop pretending and hiding all the time. Sometimes there’s bad news and sometimes there’s good news. Sometimes we have pain and sometimes we have smiles.
I died knowing I’d miss all of you and it hurt me to the very last minute. I may not have told you and it’s because I love you. All of you. I didn’t want you to be more upset because of my tears, so I smiled for you, but trust me, I was sad to say goodbye.
Think of me, okay? Think of me as you live another year, and maybe another, and when you feel like giving up or hiding … think of me.
Love always,
Anastasia
I looked into the crowd. Their faces wore a mixture of astonishment and pain. Vasili stood beside me and reached for the mic.
“I just have something to add,” I wanted to say, but couldn’t.
My legs turned to rubber as I walked off the stage, arguing with myself.
Turn back and say something. Show them who you really are.
No. It’s embarrassing. This isn’t about you anyway. Be quiet. Stand in the background.
Show them how Anastasia inspired you.
I’m not inspired.
People clapped and stood as the last of Anastasia’s pictures stayed on the screen. Her swinging in the garden, ice shining beneath her, and a huge, genuine smile dimpling her face.
I stood to the side of the stage as Vasili pressed play on the video and waited for it to begin.
Anastasia’s face lit the screen.
“Is it on?” she said. “Oh, the red dot? Okay, it’s on.” She straightened her posture. “Hi Mom, Dad, everyone. By now you’ve already read my letter that I gave to Sarah. If you’re wondering why I chose her, you’ll find out soon enough. I just want to say that since writing that I have come to terms with my death and it’s mostly because Vasili has taught me what life is all about and that it doesn’t matter what I get to experience or not. He told me what really matters is what I leave behind.
“My mom has a special gift she helped me make everyone. We couldn’t make too many because of the time, but we made a hundred. Please take one today and if you don’t get one, you can make one yourself.
“I signed up to do Make-A-Wish. I really wanted to see Greece, but I didn’t get picked. So my wish is changed and now it’s pretty simple. I just wish for everyone else to do something nice for someone every day. Don’t let one day be missed, okay?
“Mom, I love you very much. I was awake all those times you cried and watched me sleep. I remember so many times you would hold me and say you’re sorry for not being a good mom, then you’d pray that God would help you be a better one. I know you feel like you were too busy and didn’t have time for me, but Mom, no mom ever loved a daughter like you love me. Thank you for being the best mom ever.
“Daddy, I’m still your girl. I’ll always be your little girl. My best memory with you is all those times you put me on your shoulders and the one time I had ice cream. You kept telling me to be careful and sure enough my ice cream dripped on your face. A huge glob. I thought you were going to yell and put me down, but instead you said, ‘Thanks,’ wiped it onto your finger, and ate it. Thank you for always making me feel like I was loved and not a burden like some of my other friends dad’s do. I spilled cereal all over the floor once and you said, ‘Well, now. That’s an interesting way to eat cereal.’ You taught me to be patient and kind and never let mistakes mess up my day. Thank you, Daddy, for being the kind of prince I wanted to find one day.
“To everyone else, don’t forget to be nice to each other. I love you all. Sagapo.”
She stared off camera and waved.
“Just hit that button,” she said, and that was it.
Gone. With only her footprints left behind.
Twenty Three
The weather following Anastasia’s funeral described my mood. Cloudy, dreary, but no precipitation. The opaque grey sky stood on the verge of a few drops, but never tossed them to the earth.
I watched crows fly overhead from my bedroom window and thought of Anastasia’s desire to make it to spring
to see the flowers bloom one more time. Such a simple desire compared to my own.
Perhaps a funeral like that is supposed to change a person, make them want to live and love better. Seeing a child stiffened by death, lying there in a box, alone, no warmth to her touch, no blink of her eyes, affected me, but not the way it should’ve.
I wished I stood up there after her slideshow, confident and inspired, and gave everyone a speech to remember. I wished I did everything differently.
I should’ve said what I wanted to say. I replayed it in my mind the way I thought it would go if I had the nerve to speak.
“My name is Sarah Jordan,” I’d say. “I was burned in a campfire accident last year.” I’d swoop my hair behind my ear to show my scars. “Just today, before coming here, I stopped at the gas station. The pump didn’t accept my credit card, so I went inside. The guy in line beside me was gorgeous and he was standing to my left, so he couldn’t see my scars. I saw him smile at me out of the corner of my eye, but instead of looking at him and showing him my entire face, I paid for my gas and turned so that he never saw me for who I really am. I liked feeling pretty again. I liked someone not seeing my scars. But Anastasia’s right. I’m not pretending anymore. This is me.” I’d wipe my face. “This entire day I’ve been so consumed by my own flaws that I worried more about standing up here and showing everyone my scars, then I worried about Anastasia’s grieving parents. I’m so wrapped up in myself and my own issues that I haven’t fully loved others.
“The photoshoot with Anastasia was beautiful. One of my favorites. She proved that life isn’t about perfection and happiness. She showed me that life is about love. It’s about finding beauty in unexpected places. It’s about taking the cards we’re given and playing them wholeheartedly, not to win, just to play.
“This little girl and her amazingly loving and accepting family have changed my life. I can only hope that when I die, I inspire others as she has inspired me.” I’d pause and hold eye contact with Vasili, then say, “Thank you.”
I was so much happier and inspiring in my imagination. So real and brave. I replayed the imaginary speech in my mind many times, but it only caused me to feel more depressed.
My entire life seemed like one big mess of post-it notes with the words “What If” printed on each one.
Anastasia didn’t want to die. She wanted to make more memories and see more of the world.
Yet, I woke up each morning with air in my lungs and a beat to my heart, wishing I wouldn’t. Wishing she would instead.
Ella kept bugging me to get out of the house all week, so I loosened my grip on the curtains and walked away.
Vasili and Natalie wanted to go over their wedding photography again. Natalie had new ideas. I thought it was a tad too soon to be diving into wedding stuff again, but it was only a few months away and she was excited. Handsome, sweet guy like that. I couldn’t blame her if I tried.
I parked outside of a pretty old building on the west side of town. Home of Rachel’s Creperie. Natalie’s choice.
I saw her waving at a table by the window before I even entered. I admired her spunk and energy. Vasili deserved someone who lived so excitedly and passionately.
The bells jingled as I walked in and subconsciously let my hair fall in front of my face. When the hostess approached me I realized my absurdity and pulled my hair back into a low pony tail, revealing every last scar. “I’m meeting a friend. She’s right there.”
The tattooed girl didn’t flinch at my scars. She didn’t seem to notice at all actually. Somewhat relieved, I sat across from Natalie and attempted to smile.
“So, I have a surprise.” She leaned across the table with wide eyes. “Don’t tell him. Okay?”
“Vasili?”
“Yeah. I’m going to surprise him.” She sat back in her seat like a normal person. “I don’t know how much he’s told you, but last year I was offered this incredible opportunity at a salon in LA. Money, celebrities, status, you name it. Obviously I got really excited about it and wanted to take it, but I could tell Vasili didn’t want to leave his family. So, all this time I’ve been pretending to want to live there and I’ve been taking trips to LA a lot, so he believed it.”
“Wait ... why were you going there then? You missed Christmas Eve with Anastasia.”
“Well.” She wiggled her fingers before resting her palms on the table between us. “It was for Vasili. I’m bringing it up because I need your help with something, but don’t want to tell him yet.”
“Hey, girls.” A waitress stood at our table, pen and paper ready for our orders. “What can I get you today?”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Natalie said. “We haven’t looked at the menus yet.”
“No problem. Take your time.”
I slipped my coat off and hung it on the back of my chair. “So you aren’t moving to LA?”
“No.” She smiled. “Of course not. I love him too much to see him leave everything he loves. So, here’s the—oh, oh, he’s here.” She twirled the diamonds on her finger with her thumb and stood. “I’ll tell you later.”
Vasili touched my shoulder and smiled, then gave his future bride a kiss. I looked away, wondering why I felt a sudden urge to hide in the bathroom.
They sat down in front of me. Natalie opened a magazine with beautiful wedding photos. I found myself staring at Vasili’s hands, picturing them intertwined with my own.
I berated myself inside, while smiling on the outside.
“Something wrong?” Vasili said, interrupting Natalie.
I shook my head and watched Natalie as she spoke. She was petite and cute, the complete opposite of me. Perfect nose, somewhat full lips, dark eyes that changed color depending on her shirt. Not to mention her fashion-sense. She didn’t look uppity, but she looked nice. Put together. Like I used to.
I remembered she was speaking and tried to listen again.
“Do you think we could pull that off?” she said. “I know it’s a lot, but I think it will be so beautiful.”
I touched the magazine with my fingertips and pulled it toward me. “Yes. We can do this, but we need more equipment than what I have and probably at least three helpers to assist me with lighting.”
She looked at Vasili. “What do you think, babe?”
“Whatever you want,” he said.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I peeked under the table as the love bugs ordered lunch.
A text from James:
If I can’t be with you, then I’m better off dead. I’ve written you a goodbye letter and in my will I’ve given you guardianship of Abigail. It’s better this way. For her to have you instead of me.
“And for you?” The waitress said.
“Oh, um, whatever she’s having.” I glanced at my phone again. The last thing I wanted was to be responsible for someone’s death.
Vasili wouldn’t stop staring at me. He knew me well enough to know something wasn’t right and now I hated that he knew. I hated that I knew him. Hated.
Mom always told me not to say “hate.” She used to say, “Not even the devils of the world deserve such a strong emotion directed from us. The only people using that word should be the devils themselves.”
But no other word seemed appropriate for the moment. I hated the cards I plucked from the deck and it made me hate the game. Yes, hate.
Somehow my friendship with Vasili planted a false hope in me that I didn’t realize existed until now. Naively, I thought a guy like him might like a girl like me, scars and all. So stupid of me. Of course he loved her. She wasn’t perfect, but neither was he. How could I possibly be so ridiculous?
Natalie excused herself for a bathroom break.
Vasili thanked the waitress for his iced tea, then looked at me. “What’s up, Sarah? You seem preoccupied with something.”
I sipped m
y water and shook my head. “Don’t you find it a little strange to go on living when she’s gone? It doesn’t seem fair.”
“Life isn’t fair when you play by life’s rules. When you play by your own, on the other hand…”
I laughed. “What?”
James walked by the window. With a girl. Cheyenne. Vasili looked over his shoulder when he saw my gaze follow them, them he turned back to me, tapped the table, and turned back again.
I couldn’t believe it. He sent me lies about killing himself with my cousin wrapped around his arm? The nerve!
“I gotta go.” I stood and tossed a twenty on the table. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
“You’re not running after him, are you?”
“What do you care?” My face flushed with warmth.
“What’s going on?” Natalie said. “Sarah? What happened?”
I left without answering her, got into my car, and texted James back.
I saw you with my cousin. You are such an unbelievably psychotic jerk. Stop toying with my life. Leave me alone.
I had already left the city when he responded. I saw you with that guy. Smiling and laughing. Wait till I tell his fiancé you two are having an affair.
Me: We’re not. She was in the bathroom. We were meeting about wedding photography.
James: Riiiiight.
Me: Unlike you, I don’t lie.
James: Is that why you hide your scars behind your hair?
Me: Leave me alone, James. Just go away now.
James: Just because I’m with Cheyenne doesn’t mean I wasn’t serious about what I said. Do you expect me to sit around single while you help engaged guys have affairs?
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