The Anniversary

 

The Anniversary

2/12/2024 

In loving Memory of Jeffery Scott Haislip

Slowly, working my way down the keys, the tune rings forth - methodical and melancholy.  Pausing, I Google the score: 19 to 16 and the Chiefs have the ball.  40 seconds to go and a chance to pull it out.  He loved the Chiefs - they were our team since we were from KC.  Here I was again - Super Bowl Sunday a year later and the Chiefs had made it again.  Swirling, the memories came back. 

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Sam is over there on the Denim couch - a true Texan at heart.  He won’t cheer for the Chiefs even if Texas didn’t make it to the Super Bowl.  I’m sitting cross-legged curled up on the brown loveseat - artist clipboard in my lap and paper crafting supplies scattered all around me.  Methodically, I fold and tear the paper, crease and fold the cards in two, crease and fold the envelopes then seal with glue. 

Crease, Fold. Crease Fold. Tear. 

Down. Set. Hut. 

Touch Down, Kansas City! 

Then - the phone call. 

It was Austin. Uncle Jeff had a heart attack. 

My heart prepared for the next words that he was in the hospital. 

But nothing could prepared me for what I heard next. 

He was dead. 

Curls of paper scatter around - looking back now they remind me of the scattered remnants of what used to be.  

I reeled. 

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The notes coming from the piano hit the memory of my heart.  I was even checking on my pressed flowers yesterday for making more cards again.  It was all so similar but nothing was the same.  Then the text - an early Birthday text from my aunt.  And then the sorrows of my heart remember what my brain has tried to forget.  I miss him, and there is so much I want to tell him.  

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Hey Tio Jeffe - Just wanted to let you know, I’m doing it - all the things you believed I could do and inspired me to dare to dream.  I’ve been using the mic - just like you wanted me to. My little budget studio isn’t much, but I’m learning. I wish I could call you for advice and for you to tell me that chord progression once again.  I never was good at just “jamming”, but you patiently walked me through it - can we have one more session?  

Remember how you wanted me to keep pursuing even more with my passion for education - I am.  I wish I could call you and tell you about my house and my job and all that’s new.  I miss your laugh and all the ways you encouraged me - you always said the right thing at just the right moment. I need one of your strong hugs and to see that big smile shine out from your sun-tanned face.  I want to hear you sing “Paradise Island", and I want you to put a flower in my hair again - the sunflower reminiscent of sunshine you brought to my life.  I want to see you strum and smile and love with all the vivacity you brought to life. 

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But today was cold and rainy.  And tomorrow is the Anniversary - the day before my birthday.  Like the gentleman you always were, you left me my special day, but you left me without you.  So every birthday will live in the shadow of your loss - the penumbra of my sorrow.  You were too much sunshine for my soul to be totally eclipsed by grief.  Yet your sunshine is blocked from view - but not forever.  “For we do not grieve as those without hope.”  

The sobs come - I thought I had lost my tears, but shockingly, they burst to the surface.  What’s been holding them back this year? And what made them resurface in this moment so suddenly?  I supposed it is “The Anniversary” and all the little things that remind me of you - the red and yellow, the flowers, the microphone and cable strung across the piano, February.  

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I doubt myself so much, but the memory of your encouragement keeps me going on.  Your legacy of love and your belief that I could helps me stay brave and keep trying.  Thank you for believing I could even when I hesitated and fear would make me want to give up.  I love you, Uncle Jeff, and I miss you so much.  Thank you for your role in helping make me the woman I am today and who I will be tomorrow - even without you by my side.  Thank you for seeing who I could become even when I couldn’t see - thank you for how you did that and showed Jesus to me.