Today I realized that I’ve never visited your grave.
I wonder what that would feel like
To stand on the spot of grass above your body.
What dates would be inscribed for a person never born?
What would I say to your tombstone?
All I have is my regret that we never spoke.
I wonder what silly arguments we might have had
And wish we’d been given the chance to disagree.
How can it be that I miss you?
All I know of you is your name
And a life you never had--
I would have been a bridesmaid at your wedding.
I’d tear up as I made some sappy toast about
How much I love you and how happy I am for you.
First I’d start out with something funny:
An embarrassing story about something you did when we were young.
I’d pause for laughter and smile at you, tears starting to well up
In my eyes thinking of the memories we shared over the years.
My voice would crack several times throughout the speech,
And I would blush under the gaze of the reception.
Then I’d talk about how giddy you were when you first met
The man you were marrying and tell my first impression
Of him. (I would not have been impressed
because no one is good enough for a sister of mine)
But eventually he would have won me over because
If you, Faith, found something to love about him surely I could too.
Then I’d say how happy I was for the two of you. I’d be a sobbing mess
At this point. You might roll her eyes and come hug me
As everyone clapped for my toast. I would remark
How beautiful you look in the dress I didn’t want you to get.
I liked the princess dress fluffed with tulle that had a sweetheart neckline
But you wanted the satin one with a v-neck.
I’d regain my composure just enough to say
“To the happy couple!”
And raise my glass.
What I wouldn’t give to give that speech...