Celebrating Rosie’s Birthday: A Heartfelt Window on the World in King City – Your Local News Source

I’m not the best at remembering anniversaries or birthdays. In fact, I have an uncanny talent for recalling tough days like my sister’s birthday. I can’t help but acknowledge it. This year, I remembered it with “Forever 48” on her Facebook post. My sister would have been 55 on January 16, and it serves as a marker in my life. I often feel a pang of resentment that she missed her 50th birthday. It would have been a grand celebration, and I still party on in her honor.

Over the years, I’ve tried various ways to mark her birthday. One year, I treated myself to a cream macrame bag from Zara, one I knew she would have loved. I often made trips to special places, like Mum’s beach at Moss Landing, where I talk to her spirit as if she’s listening. Who knows? Maybe she is. Grief, after all, is the price we pay for love.

This year was different. I felt low because I hadn’t planned anything for her birthday. I was on a challenging trip to Oregon to visit my mother-in-law, who is nearing the end of her life. These journeys can be a mix of stress, emotion, and beauty. On the first day, my mother-in-law recognized me; the next, she did not. Seeing her eyes light up as my daughter entered the room was heartwarming. “It’s me, grandma,” my daughter said, and her smile was a treasure. Despite the eight-hour drive, we wouldn’t trade that time for anything.

Yet, I still hadn’t done anything for Rosie’s birthday. I didn’t even fix the memorial in my Secret Garden. I felt like a bad sister. By the time we got home, I was exhausted. I took a bath, my usual escape after long, hard days. I found a book in a charity shop, one that looked like a light read. I lit candles, filled the tub with bubbles, and sank into relaxation. As I read, I discovered that the setting reminded me of our beloved Suffolk coast, a place we dreamed of owning together. In that moment, I realized I had given her a gift, one that made me laugh and lifted my spirits.

I shared this moment with an old friend. She reminded me that my bond with Rosie is still strong. We create joy from our memories, instead of letting grief consume us. I’ve always believed in finding the beauty amidst loss, and Rosie’s spirit lives on in those delightful moments.

By chance, I’m redoing my book about Rosie, “The Rosebud & Her Brilliant Adventures.” I’ve decided to make it more reader-friendly, taking into account the feedback I received about the font. The next edition will be easier to read, I promise!

Recently, I revisited the last part of my book — the Grief Chronicles. It’s a space for others to share their own experiences with loss. Grief and love go hand in hand, and it’s important to connect and share our stories.

Rosie always loved butterflies. “They live for such a short time,” I once told her. “Yes,” she replied, “but that’s why quality matters more than quantity.” I was reminded of that conversation as I saw butterflies fluttering around me, almost like they were celebrating their brief time here. We used to laugh together until we were dizzy, just like those butterflies.

Here is the deepest secret nobody knows:

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud,

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows

higher than soul can hope or mind can hide,

and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart.

I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart).

—ee cummings

(Also Rosie’s big sis, me)