Poetry by Belinda Stotler

The poem is something that came to me about 6 months after my sister's sudden death. I found her dead on her bedroom floor when I went in to change her bandages from a recent surgery. A blood clot from that surgery is what killed her. The poem tells my journey through grief - from the initial disbelief to the final acceptance. There is not a day that goes by that I don't miss my best friend.

My Mother had been ill with a serious lung disease (COPD) due to many years of smoking. I tried many times to get her to stop smoking over my life with her, but she could not stop. It took a toll on her heart and she died from a heart attack on 12/10/2006, which is my younger sister's birthday. I wrote this poem in dedication to her.

This poem talks about the day of my sister's funeral, which took place on a beautiful sunny day in November 2007. It is normally a day that makes my spirits soar, but that day was one of the hardest I had ever faced. I had prepared an eulogy, but wasn't sure I could make it through it without breaking down. I did make it through, however, without wavering. The weather helped, but I think the brilliant golden ray of my sister's spirit was with me.

A blood clot suddenly stopped my sister's heart one chilly November day, which was caused from emergency surgery 3 weeks prior to her death. I found her lying face down on the floor, between her bed and her favorite rocking chair, which sat in the corner of her bedroom. It's funny how a rocking chair becomes more than just a place to sit for those sorely missing its former owner. It still sits quietly in the same spot, 4 years after her death, because of the sweet memories it evokes.

My sister, Brenda, was my best friend and I loved her with my whole heart. She died suddenly at age 50 from a blood clot caused by emergency surgery that she should have never had to undergo. She died 3 days after my birthday on 11/09/2007 and I found her when I went to change her bandages. The shock and grief was unbearable at times, and I cried everyday the first year afterwards. I miss her and think of her every day. Poetry helped me and I hope my poem helps others.