April Harmer: April 1970-February 1988

Dear April,

I can't believe that it has been 22 years this weekend since you were here. Seems like yesterday in some ways and then in some ways it seems forever ago. My memories of you have become a bit muddled over the years. I cannot for the life of me remember how your voice sounded but I can remember, and always picture, the way you would tilt your head just slightly when you would sing. I can remember sneaking into the hospital to see you and driving you in your wheelchair all over the unit. I think we knocked over your chemo pump about a million times and that darn thing would start beeping at us. I can remember laughing hysterically the time we got Grandma Harmer to put on one of your wigs. Good times.

I still miss you and wish you were here. I wonder often what kind of woman you would have become. Would you have married? Would you love chocolate and trashy reality t.v. as much as me? Would you still write poetry? I am taking notes on all things life and living like you asked me too (oh, and taking notes on that other thing we talked about, wink, wink).

I was thinking about my memories of you the other night and I was remembering a cold winter night, a few weeks before you died. Mom and dad were out somewhere, can't remember where. I was getting ready to go out with some friends and you and I were sitting in the family room. You asked me if I really had to go because you said you were scared to be home alone. At the time, I think I thought it was some irrational fear of nighttime or something but now I suspect you were afraid of being alone for much bigger reasons. You knew why you had been brought home from the hospital. Of course, being 14, I left you there. I wish I had been less of a self absorbed teenager and instead more able to see something bigger going on outside of myself.

Love you always.

Heather