I got the horrible call to come down to Scripps Memorial Hospital at about 10:00 that night. A figure lay on the bed that barely resembled the beautiful girl I knew. She uttered her last words in my presence, that she hurt. The helplessness on my part at my ability to do nothing for her was overwhelming. My family plunged into a despair that you never really can recover from, not entirely anyway. It is hard for me to believe that she would be 43 today, had she lived.
We are all fated to lose everyone we love one day, unless we are lucky enough to go first but to lose a light so young, a light that shined so bright makes it all the more difficult.
Amy was a verbal scorpio like her brother, she wrote very sophisticated poetry and had what is called an old soul. She was into the punk scene and hung out with the band TSOL. I took her to see the Grateful Dead at Irvine, an event she thoroughly enjoyed and loved being her big brother. She was a champion saddlebred rider, even handling the powerful five gaited steeds.
And I think that she loved being my sister. As I loved her. It has been a long time, twenty eight years. I used to feel guilty when I felt that I hadn't thought of her enough. I didn't like the fact that I could begin to forget the loss my family and I had endured. The worst pain I have felt in my life.
One night I had a dream where she touched me somehow, through the cosmos and the vapors. She told me not to worry, that she now existed as a corona or field of energy on some distant planet. I woke up feeling better. Amie is buried at Home of Peace cemetery on Imperial Avenue. My father wrote the words now emblazoned on her coral colored gravestone. "Roam the heavens in peace, free spirit."
I love you and miss you, Amie.
