Posted by Jeff on April 3, 2008, 4:06 am
68.84.208.129
When Jill and I were kids, we used to spend hours lying outside on the ground looking at the stars. I have many fond memories of that from my childhood - looking at the stars, counting them, finding all the constellations, etc. We each had one star that was our favorite, and we used to say that when we grew up we were going to be astronauts and we would go visit our favorite star (hey, we were kids, we had big dreams 
). I still remember which star was hers, and sometimes when I'm outside at night I look at that one particular star, and I can almost feel her next to me. Sometimes I wonder if she's been there yet, and if it was all she thought it would be.
When we were out looking at the stars, we'd always watch for meteors, too. Whenever we saw one we would always make a wish. We always wished for simple things that we knew would come true anyway, so that we'd never be disappointed. That way we created the illusion for ourselves that our "shooting star wishes" always came true. That was Jill's idea. That was the kind of positive and optimistic outlook she always had toward everything in life.
A few months before she died, Jill wrote me a letter in which she told me everything she wanted me to know. I still pull that letter out sometimes and read it again. It was her last goodbye, last confession, last thank you, and list of hopes and dreams for Katie, all rolled up into 12 handwritten pages. Somehow she had managed to put 30 years of friendship into words. People tell me I'm good with words, but I was never able to do that. There are some things I just can't find the words for, but somehow she found them. Somehow she summed it up perfectly. That letter is one thing I cherish more than anything else she ever gave me. Anyway, she ended the letter with this:
"...and if you see a shooting star it's from me...don't forget to make a wish."
I was outside with the dog last night, and I saw the biggest and brightest meteor I've ever seen. It streaked across the sky and then disappeared behind the trees. It was beautiful, I've never seen one so big and bright before. And of course I made a wish.
I wrote on this board last week that if I had just one wish it would be that things would have turned out differently for Jill. I know that's a wish that can't come true - can't change the past, and all that, so instead I wished for a cure for cancer. That's a little bigger than our usual "shooting star wishes" ever were, but I know that one will come true someday. After all, the stars have never let me down yet.
So Jill, thanks for the shooting star, and I hope you heard my wish. And if you can do anything to help it along, there's a whole bunch of people down here who'd sure appreciate it 
. I miss you kiddo.
J
Responses: