My tears won't bring her back

My tears won’t bring her back. No matter how many tears I shed... her promising career as a young lawyer, her happy marriage, her life, her husband’s life... they are all over. No matter what I say to make it better, it makes no sense. Katie Finn Milleman died a day before her first anniversary and less than two weeks before her 27th birthday. Her husband died too; they were in a car accident. At least they’re still together now. Nope, that doesn’t make it better. At least she led a happy, full life. Nope, that doesn’t make it better. She touched countless lives with her grace and generosity, more than many would in their lifetimes. Nope, that doesn’t make it better either. Since I heard the news, I’ve gotten back in touch with people I haven’t talked to in years. But that doesn’t bring her back. It doesn’t change the fact that she’s buried under six feet of dirt just off 9th Street in Ames and that I won’t see her at my ten year high school reunion.

My mom had left me a message to call home but I didn’t call back. I went to yoga the next morning, and for some reason I thought of Katie. Perhaps someone in yoga class reminded me of her. Then later that day I was at the grocery store and either I called my mom or she called me. I think she called me. She told me in a hushed voice “Katie Finn died.” What?

My reaction is still the same. What? You must mean someone else. That can’t be. Not her.

I called some high school friends. I felt it my responsibility to pass on the word, in case they hadn’t heard. Then I got all the info from a classmate’s mom. She emailed me the accident report and gave me her son Joe’s phone number. Then I talked to Joe, who gave me the information on how to get a bereavement fare. His mom told me he’d be one of the pall bearers at the funeral. I think he was at Erica’s house. I talked to Erica too. The last time I saw Katie was with Erica in Iowa City. What to say?

Katie, like me, had a younger brother. I talked to my brother Nitin. He said... “Her brother must be devastated.” We were both silent after he said this, thinking the same thing.

I talked to my parents. My mom said “that’s the worst thing a parent could go through...”

I went to Ames in October. It was on my mind, but I wasn’t there for long enough to go to the cemetery. And maybe, I just wasn’t ready. But shortly after arriving home from the airport I ran up to the room to find a journal in which people had written messages to me at high school graduation. What Katie had written to me touched me, meant so much to me that I still remember it eight and a half years later. She had written that she’d always admired me. She admired me? Since I was seven years-old I admired Katie Finn. She was smart, pretty, popular, and always nice. She wanted the best for people. I saw so much goodness in her. We were never close friends, but she was always part of my life.

When I went home for Christmas, my mom gave me a letter that a classmate had sent. Some of my high school classmates, those who were close friends with her, are planning to purchase a couple of trees and a bench at a park near Katie’s parents’ house as a Class of 1998 memorial to her and John, and were asking for donations. John was also from our hometown, and his sister is in our class as well. I called Carrie, the one who sent the letter. I went to elementary school with Katie, and Carrie, and John’s sister, also named Katie. I’ve known these people practically forever. I asked her if it was too late to send a donation, since the letter said December 1. I told her that I’d been meaning to send Katie’s family a letter since September, when the accident happened, but I kept getting stuck. Carrie told me that if I still wanted to send something, it helped Katie’s family to receive mail with memories of Katie. It helped them know they weren’t going through this horrible mess alone. I asked Carrie where Katie was buried. She told me that Katie and John were buried side by side in the cemetery just off 13th Street. There weren’t headstones yet, but new grass and two big wreaths. Funny that I'd passed this cemetery thousands of times but never noticed it.

Priya and I went to see Katie and John on December 30 at dusk. Priya had found the information on the Internet, which stated the address as 9th Street. There was also an entrance from 13th, but we entered through 9th. Priya and I were clueless about cemetery etiquette... can we drive through here? Some of these pathways are a bit narrow, but paved. There are tons of wreaths here! Where is the new grass? Two big wreaths side by side. We searched for several minutes and right when I started calling someone... I hated to call people and disturb them with this question... Priya saw two wreaths without headstones. We got out of the car, and saw it was them. There were two small signs in the ground with their names. There were two rectangles carved into the ground behind these signs, where their caskets were buried. We placed flowers at each grave. Others had done the same.

I thought that going to the cemetery would help it sink in more. I couldn’t shut up; I kept making stupid euphemistic comments to Priya. I touched the ground where Katie was buried, that helped a little. I wish I went to the funeral. I want to see my classmates or others who were close to her. I want to wallow in this for a while. Will it help? What is there to say? Nothing justifies this. There is no sense to it. It is tragic. I still cry, and yet my life goes on. All of our lives still go on, memories of Katie and John echoing in our minds.

I keep thinking, there is no way that this is real. But it is.