Page 74 - July ONLINE VERSION

her not to text and drive because she was swerving. sister too. She is an abstract artist whose grasp of
It wasn't an accident. She complained of a stomach texture and color theory are awesome. She’s on insta-
ache, fell asleep on her mom’s bed and never woke gram: @papp_art_online.
up. Heart failure is often mistaken for stomach flu,
since the blood is being pumped to the stomach. She I have carried Grandma and Amber with me, even in
was 17. places I didn’t intend to. I've gotten in car accidents
(due to my own crazy driving) like Amber. I've writ-
Amber loved kids, and had applied for a job to be- ten poetry about my grandma as I reflect how like
come a daycare worker before she passed away. She her I have become. Everything I do carries pieces of
was so looking forward to it, and I remember telling them with me.
her that she was perfect for the job. She told me many
times that she was going to babysit my child, when- Their kindness lives on even after
ever we had one. She never got a chance to babysit they are gone.
for us.

Gone, but Always Here

It’s not all sad though. Amber seemed to know that.
She was joyful and fun-loving. She was also a poet Jennifer Wallace
and deep thinker who had suffered several emotional Art-appreciating boba fiend. Loves
traumas… things that would have crippled me. Her
death hit me hard, because I loved her dearly and it Jesus, family, and friends.
felt unfair that she died at such a young age.

Grief has always felt violent to me like the ripping
away of an important appendage. It has taken de-
cades for me to realize that grief is the imprint from
someone who was well-loved. To put it in the words
of a well-known synthezoid, “What is grief, if not
love persevering?”

Amber had given our firstborn her first gift, long be-
fore we even conceived her. She’d brought a Sponge-
bob Squarepants bib to the bridal shower to tease me
for accidentally calling it my “baby shower.” I wept
when I made the connection.

The day of Amber’s funeral, I saw what appeared to
be waves of people, all making their way into the
church. Most of them were late; fitting, since Amber
herself had trouble being on time. I was in awe that
one person could touch so many lives; astounded
how she effortlessly made everyone feel special.

My grandma has left her imprint on me as well. I HUB CITY BREWING
am a writer and a poet - two things I wouldn’t be if
it hadn’t been for her. I still love fairy tales, classical
music, and the arts. Acting and musical theater are
huge passions of mine. Love of art translated to my 250 WEST MAIN STREET
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