I know she had brown eyes

 My cousin Colby would have turned 27 two weeks ago. It's coming up on eight years since she died. Lately, I've just been wishing I could talk to her about all kinds of things. The night before her birthday I had a dream that she visited me and I got to talk to her about some of those things. 

I told her, "There have been so many good musicals since you died. I wish you were here for that," and she said, "Yeah, me too!" 

I asked her questions about heaven. She said, "Well, it's kind of hard to explain." Apparently, that answer was good enough for me because I just said, "That's understandable." Ha! 

Musicals were one of the common interests Colby and I shared. Singing, dancing--really anything involving performing. Not long before she died, we went to see my best friend Carlee perform in Little Shop of Horrors, a doubly treasured memory (because seeing Carlee light up a stage is always my favorite). 

At Colby's funeral, I distinctly remember thinking during the slideshow of photos, "I'll never see her beautiful brown eyes again." This thought hit me like a ton of bricks. Maybe this is because I've heard it said that the eyes are the window to a person's soul. And of course, when we die, our souls leave our bodies. 

Colby and Taylor and I had a million and one inside jokes together. One of them was the Andy Davis song, "Brown Eyes." The first line is "I know she had brown eyes," and we would just blurt it out at random times. The song is catchy, but also a little stalker-ish, and we would laugh about it. Now it reminds me of her and is bittersweet, especially the line that says, "Stuck in the back of my mind is her looking into my eyes." 

There is so much life that has happened since we lost Colby. Her death changed the course of my entire life, in the hardest, most painful ways--and for the better, because I consequently changed my career path. 

I wish Colby could meet Garrett's three amazing kids. I wish she could see me training dogs. I wish we could geek out over every single musical together--I know she would have been absolutely obsessed with Hamilton, Dear Evan Hansen, In the Heights movie, and Ansel Elgort getting the lead in West Side Story. She would love the fact that Lin-Manuel Miranda "visits" me in my dreams (hey, maybe they will show up at the same time at some point and I can introduce them!), and she would have loved all of his latest projects. 

I wish I could have taken her with me to a Switchfoot concert at some point. She once said they were her favorite band, which always meant a lot to me since their music has carried me through so much. Since living in California I feel like I understand their music even better and I'm getting to see them in concert again at the end of this semester in Napa (what a dream!). If I could have her with me that would mean a lot, especially since I'm pretty determined to tell the band (by way of letter) just how much their music has meant to me over the past decade (more on that another time). 

I've said it many times, but I'll never fully understand the timing of her death--or why. She was so seemingly healthy and her death was the most sudden, unexpected thing. These are the kind of questions I will never get answers in this life and it's a waste of time to dwell on them. What I have come to see though, is how much love our family has for one another, how much love I still have for my cousin, and how grateful I am. I'm grateful for her 19 years. I'm grateful for the many things we had in common. I'm grateful for the impact she had on my life. I'm grateful for the hundreds of things that still remind me of her, even when they sting. 

May we all come to appreciate the precious nature of every bit of life--even grief. 

Sincerely,

Haley