Rebecca Ann Powell

I never thought I would have to write something like this, but here I am on the one month anniversary of my sister's passing still trying to make it seem real. On May 10 my sweet sister Beckie passed away. The world will not be the same without her generous, fun-loving, and forgiving soul. I will never forget where I was when I found out. I had just loaded the kids in the car at Cost Co and was putting the cart away. My dad called and he said, "Hi Jenna" in such a sad way that I said, "Are you ok? You sound sad." And he replied, "It's a sad day. Beckie has passed away." There have been three times in my life where I felt one emotion purely and completely: when each of my children was born I felt pure love, and in this instance I felt pure grief. I don't remember what I said except I asked if he was sure a lot and I just kept saying, "No." I got off of the phone with him and called Rusty and asked him to come and get me. He held me in the car while I cried. Poor Henry was so confused and sad he kept handing me toys and asking me to be happy. That night Rusty went and got Taco Bell (Beckie's favorite) and some graham canyon ice cream (my favorite) and we sat on the couch and watched The Office (another one of Beckie's favorites). The next day was a Friday. I went to my parent's house to be with them, and Angie came too. After a few days we all made the trip to Idaho to go through Beckie's apartment and to see Beckie and dress her. Going through her apartment to get a few things for the funeral was extremely difficult. It was far more painful that I had even anticipated. I saw a box of popsicles on the counter that I had given her in a care package when she had surgery and I just lost it. I was so sad that she didn't like them, that my last gift I gave to her was not good enough. I put on one of her sweaters and just sat on the bed with Angie and Jessica. Downstairs my dad pulled out the coat she wore all of the time and just sobbed on the couch clinging to it. Things were just as she left them; the keys were on the hook. The dishes were on the drying rack, and her shoes were by the door. After getting a few things, we all sat on the couch and talked about happy memories with her. While I was sitting there on this couch that she loves and has been with her since forever, I felt a sense of peace. We were able to talk about who she was and what she had accomplished. She was truly a remarkable person.

While we were driving home we kept hearing this squeaking sound that sounded like a mouse, and it was really irregular. We all freaked out and made Dad pull over to look through the box, and there was a mouse inside... but it was a little toy mouse for the cat haha. We laughed so hard and were just sure that Beck was messing with us. Ang just kept yelling, "I'M FROZEN!" Haha. The next day was a terrible day, but there were also some very tender experiences. I got to see my sweet Beckie again, but in a way I had never imagined. She was still beautiful. We had decided that we did not want to see her, that it would be too difficult. As we were walking out we walked right into the doorway to the room where she was, and the door was opened. I remember seeing her foot and my heart just shattered- I knew that I had to see her. I went in and was filled with panic and grief and I didn't know what to do. And then a miracle happened- I felt without a doubt this sense of peace and calm and happiness. I felt that Beckie was so incredibly happy. That she was free from her struggles here, that she was happy and herself again. We all felt this sense of happiness so strongly that we decided to stay and help get her ready. We did her hair, helped with her make up, put on her jewelry and painted her nails. It was a very tender experience to be able to spend that time with her, my sisters, and my parents. I cannot explain it in any other way than the veil was so thin that I had the most interaction with the other side that I have ever had. She was there with us, happy and free. I went from being so shattered to feeling such peace and joy. Then, as we all left the room that feeling faded. I knew we couldn't have that feeling forever. The next few days were spent getting things ready for the funeral, which was beautiful. There were white roses and pink peonies everywhere-her favorites. Everyone took a packet of forget-me-not flowers home with them to plant to remind them of her. Her coffin was pink and gray, her favorite colors, and she would have loved it. I joked to my parents that Beckie had the most beautiful wedding, and she surely would have the most beautiful funeral too. It really was beautiful. Saying goodbye is impossible to describe. I stuck a note in that told her I loved her, but I will never feel like I had enough time to adequately tell her what she meant to me. I spoke at the funeral with Angie about her life and who she was. She was funny, kind, intelligent, determined, stubborn, a fighter, and most of all forgiving. She forgave everyone. For everything. She also never quit fighting until the very end. Beckie had no alcohol in her at the time of her death. She had mixed some prescription pills that night before she went to bed, and the mixture was fatal. After so many years of struggling, her body just couldn't take that anymore. But she would never give up.

The rest of the month was a blur. A slow moving, painful blur. I would wake up every morning and think it was all just a dream. I would have panic attacks about having to go through this again with someone else I love. I had to live through regrets I had about not telling her how proud I was of her, how much I loved her, or spending more time with her. I had to work through feeling like I never really got to know the real her because of her addiction, and this sense of loss of hope because she was getting so close to being her true self again. I watched my mother become completely beside herself with grief. I watched my dad cry in a way I have never seen before. I watched my sisters do the same. I watched my niece say goodbye to her mother while she is here on Earth, and watched my husband carry my sister to her grave. For me, the worst part was visiting the cemetery that night. My mom wanted to take some flowers and when we got there I could not bear the thought of her being under the ground. My mom was crying and kept saying that she didn't want the lines to show in the grass from where the grave was dug. These are experiences that a mother should never have to go through, and a daughter should never have to witness her mom suffer.

Through it all we have grown closer as a family. We talk more often, see each other more frequently, and express our love more freely. It has only been a month but I have already seen good changes coming about in me and in my family. I try to act like Beckie acted. I try to forgive, let things roll off of my back, and focus on what matters most. I try to be a fighter. I try to be more generous, giving without thinking of what I'll get in return. I try to be strong and independent and follow my dreams. I try to make things more beautiful than I found them. I try to take care of myself more. I try to dress up a little more every once in a while because she loved heels and lipstick. I try to enjoy my children and husband, because she loved them so much too. It's just like Beckie to be leaving us better than she found us, and to be giving us one last gift- a gift of becoming better. Of becoming more like her.