Have You Seen It?

Nik and I are setting up a site in Aimee's memory. I posted this tonight as a tribute to her. If you haven't been there yet, here is the URL: http://aimee-bunger.memory-of.com/About.aspx

Please visit her site, light a candle in her memory, and know you have my thanks. She was one of a kind and is sorely missed.

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I’ve sat down to write this several times, with little success. Mostly because the idea of writing a tribute to you brings to the surface all of the things I wish I had said to you, or said to you more often, when you were here.

But, nonetheless, here we are, with me needing to write a tribute to you. Oh, honey, you don’t even know.

How do I put you into words?

You were a friend like no other. Your smile lit up rooms and hearts. Your humor was honest, genuine, and capable of soothing broken hearts and brightening the worst of days. Your love was unconditional, all-accepting, and true. You gave of yourself in every part of your life and never asked the cost, and required nothing in return. You were your family’s pride, your friends’ most trusted confidant, and everyone’s “most likely to be there if you needed someone”.

Your friendship has been a constant in my life for more than a decade, a solid grabbing point amidst chaos, and a large part of who I am. To consider my future without you is…staggering. Painful. Confusing.

Moments of denial still sweep over me every day. The urge to pick up the phone and call you has not lessened. The hope that it’s you when my phone rings hasn’t either. My brain has not caught up with the loss yet, and still puts you at the front of the mental list before I ever check the caller ID. I don’t imagine it will cease any time soon, and I don't mind that, because for that split second, I can remember what it felt like when I didn’t have to face the rest of my life without you.

I will never forget our last day together, which was too short, but which we were sure would not be the last. That last time you got out of my van, turned back, and shot me that smile and said “See ya!”, I said the same. And we hugged. But not for long enough. I would pay more than I can say to have made it last longer, to have held you closer and told you that I loved you. I know I told you on the 21st when you called about the baby, but I would have liked to have told you one more time.

Jackson will never remember having known you. Samantha will most likely forget much of what she knows of you. Those realities break my heart, because you loved them so much, and because they helped you decide that you wanted to be a momma. But we will make sure they hear of you, learn about who you were, what you stood for, and how much you have meant to Greg and to me.

There is not enough time to write down and spell out everything we’ve shared - the laughs, the tears, and most importantly, everything that we pulled each other through, pushed each other over, and gave each other strength to persevere past. I carry it all with me, and I believe that you carry it with you. And I hope that you can see and feel how much I love you, and how much I will miss you, every day, until I see you again.

I love you. I will always love you. Please stay close to all of us, check in on Samantha in preschool once in a while, and know that you are always in our hearts.