I get a bit melancholy every July 4th. While everyone else seems to be excited about barbecues and hanging out at the beach or pool, I feel sadness. It’s not that I don’t want to celebrate our nation’s birthday, but the day has more personal significance to me.
My older sister, Crandall, died on July 4th. She was just 21 at the time and seemed to have her whole life in front of her. But a tragic car accident changed all that.
She was in many ways my idol. I adored her and looked up to her. I was so proud to be her brother.
I know that none of us escapes heartache and grief in this world. For me, Crandall’s death was the first time that I lost someone that I truly loved. I was a mere 18 years old and the devastation overwhelmed me. It was heartbreaking. It challenged and rocked my world and caused me to question my faith, my existence and what really matters in life.
It has been 37 years, a lifetime it seems, since I sobbed uncontrollably at my new reality. Like we all do, we pick up the pieces and move on. The rawness of the pain diminishes over time. Life continues.
I don’t get stuck in my grief and I firmly believe that life is for the living. But as the anniversary of her death approaches, I’m reminded of the lyrics from Lady Antebellum’s hit, Miss You Now – “Guess I’d rather hurt than feel nothin’ at all.” I’m content with feeling a bit of pain while the fireworks burst around me. It tells me that love is the strongest of all emotions, that we come into each other’s worlds for a reason, and that her life touched mine so deeply that I’m a better man because of it.
So my celebration on the 4th, in addition to being thankful for our proud nation, is a celebration of a life that mattered. RIP Crandall.
