Just this morning, I skipped a day to get to where I stood at the steps of the Opera House. I had approached from Darling Harbour and stared into the glare of the sun, the sky comically blue and the ocean’s tide seemingly jealous of the clouds that gathered above us. Seemed, to me, the moment needed a touch of grey.
Must be getting early, clocks are running late.
I checked into my hotel room and put on some tunes. Jet-lagged and tethered in the thought that it had actually been four years, my mind wrapped around the night that we got the call. Alone on a bed, halfway around the world from that day, I felt ashamed that there had been other nights that I had woken to its ring. Nights when my eyes opened in the dark to trace the edges of where my old bedside table would have been.
Every silver linings got a touch of grey.
With the time that had passed, I could find comfort that her history continued to grow as my life changed. I thought about the good times – and there were plenty – but if I could get the day back, I would have ditched Sydney to spend it with Dayna. We’d drive through Malibu towards Zuma Beach, like we did when I was a kid, and over the music and the wind, I’d write down everything she had to say.
I drew the curtains to block the remnants of sun that remained. The International Date Line didn’t work both ways.
Oh, well, a touch of grey, kinda suits you anyway
I don’t necessarily miss the things my sister did, the antics her history is, on the surface, made of. I miss the things she was – her character. She had limitless humor, perseverance to squeeze life’s most bitter lemons, and a capacity to love that was indifferent to boundaries or time zones.
I will get by, I will survive.
On the fourth anniversary of her passing, I can’t help but miss my sister. Her passion for life makes me envy the risks she took to enjoy its journey. With some time, I have grown to accept that there is a silver lining, even if I happen to skip a day. I’ll always have our memories and Dayna’s lessons to guide me through the touches of grey.
Lyrics from Touch of Grey by Grateful Dead (In the Dark, Arista Records)
In Memory of My Sister Year One
In Memory of My Sister Year Two
In Memory of My Sister Year Three
Categories: Creative Writing, in memory, Life
I’ve taken an unanticipated break from blogging. Your posts are one of few I’ve elected to read. And I know why. Because you are not just your personal and deep words. You are a significant soul. I don’t ‘do’ loss well, even with unknown people and circumstances. Your written tributes to Dayna are, for me, an emotional mix that pierce and soothe. I trust they serve as salve for you, Dominic.
Thank you, as usual, Eric for your kind and thoughtful comment. I really appreciate it. These posts certainly do provide me with something – perhaps it is the outlet, or just the opportunity to reflect on good times and how I continue to accept that she is gone (and the circumstances that took her). I never in million years would have thought that I’d be publicly sharing these sentiments, though now it is something I seem so willing to do! Crazy how that happened.
Thanks again, Eric!
Sometimes my words don’t really serve me; but a warm embrace always makes my thoughts clear my friend… I hope you feel this virtual hug.
I can’t believe it’s been a year since the last commemorative post. Poignant and beautiful for the touch of matter-of-factness. So sad to read, but enjoy your voice as always.
I want to say I’m sorry
but my words fall
Thank you, really appreciate it. I’d say your words don’t fall short – as your writing is something I truly enjoy – but I do understand what you are saying. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.
I’d say your words don’t fall short – as your writing is something I truly enjoy
Oh, so sweet. The writing wasn’t on my mind — as you know.
Night will not prevail.
You will see why I say this.
an earth e x h a l e s
breathtaking poem. you set the bar, my friend. i will be dreaming of that sun rise.
D, you really are too generous. I did not quite think that one of my best. In any case, I am just glad it warmed you – with anticipation of the good and bright.
Thank you for this, Dom. Always good to remember what’s important.
No, thank you my friend. Always appreciate your support in my writing, and in life’s wacky way of throwing the kitchen sink at us. Top marks, dude – thanks again.
We have to have a few people in our corner while we bleed on the paper. Otherwise, I think we’d lose our minds.
Just went back and read all four. You are so thoughtful, SUCH a talented writer who can share emotion in such a beautiful way, and an amazing brother. I am sure she is smiling down at you and singing along. I love you friend!
Thank you my friend! It really means a ton to me that you went back to read all four years. Crazy, right? Time goes so fast. I must confess that this year, being on the road, made it difficult to post something that I felt good about. Your comment helped me do that, thank you! 🙂