I was unable to attend and we instead created a memorial to her here in St. Louis.

I loaded up the memorial wheel and all I would need for our little ceremony into my wheel bag, strapped it around my shoulders, climbed onto my mtb bike, and started the trek to the spot with Cristel and Ruby.

This particular trail is pretty rocky and is made “fun” and funny when one has a giant wheel bag strapped to their person and that wheel bag contains not only the memorial wheel, but bags of Skittles, a martini, a martini glass, ribbon, wire, tools, and a sandwich…just in case.

It was difficult not to laugh (as Cristel and I did) while we climbed our way up.

Once to the peak, we decided on the perfect spot and did what we needed to do to make it perfect for Anna.

We secured the wheel with some light wire and arranged some rocks to help secure it and stood silently for a moment.

I grabbed the Skittles and poured some into a sealed container and placed them next to the memorial for her.

Anna loved Skittles and had wanted me to sneak her one last Friday…but we couldn’t because she was severely diabetic, was struggling health-wise (clearly) and was unable to take in solids.

I wish now that I had given her the damn Skittle.  Instead, I got her a mango iced fruit bar and told her it was a margarita.  She liked it.

Now, Anna is getting her Skittles.  Wild Berry.

I poured some Skittles into the martini glass and poured over the magic lemonade martini and stood looking at her.

Cristel and I wrapped arms and she said a beautiful prayer.

Then it was on me…

I was speechless as I stared at Anna and thought of all the things that she had been through.

All the things that she taught me.

All that she gave to us….

…which was everything she had…all the time.

I thought about a letter she had received from my grandmother when I was little and how that note had devastated Anna.

I thought about the letter I had written Anna after that…when she was moving out of the family home.

I thought about how Lisa had found both letters at Anna’s apartment when she died.

They were written in 1984.

I ended up apologizing to Anna for all of us…and thanking her for everything.

I felt sad and drained and filled with remorse for how my grandparents had treated her and felt pride for how Anna carried herself and didn’t speak ill of either of them.

If I am lucky enough to live to be 85, that means I still have 45 years to treat people the way Anna did, so it’s not too late for me….or any of us.

I hugged my friend tight, took a sip of the Skittles martini, sprinkled a drop on the flower petals, tossed the rest and climbed back on my bike.

We sat there for a moment taking in the view that Anna would have and exhaled.

The ride back down the hill oddly enough has both ups and downs…and bushes with razor-sharp thorns.

I happened to tango with a branch of one of these “fun” bushes as I descended and ended up with more than a few adorable thorns in my fingers, hand, and bar grip.

As soon as I pulled them out, I of course gushed blood because I am a bleeder, so that was cute.

(I promise I am going somewhere with these details…bare with me…)

There were sections of the trail that had to be walked and bikes carried due to the wetness of the trail in those spots, so I ended up a little muddy…

As we got back to the car, I said goodbye to C & R and headed out.

As soon as I got in the car, the tears came.

Pure, loud, ugly-face sobs…

Snot dripping, eye-puffing messiness.

It was a great!

I drove to the gym to get my 5K in and walked slowly to the entrance…completely unaware of how I looked.

As I checked in, this is what the attendant saw…

What a sight!

Messy, dirty, bloody lady with tear streaks and dried snot.

Awesomeness.

“Are you OK, Cory?” he said.

“Yes….I’m sorry.  We just buried my aunt today and I am a bit of a mess.”

[Long, LONNNNNNNG pause here while the look on his face registers in my brain.]

“Oh my god!  No!  I didn’t KILL her! She’s in Brooklyn, NY!  I SWEAR!  Today was her funeral and we just placed a memorial to her up on a bluff and I got my ass kicked by some thorns….”

He raised his eyebrow impressively and I started to laugh.

“I swear!” I said.

I’m still not sure he believed me…but it felt great to laugh.

I’m sure Anna laughed too.

I turned the music on as loud as it would go and started running with my face to the sun.

I slid my sunglasses off my head and over my eyes and the tears poured down.

When I ran in New York and NJ, I ran with the hope that I would see you again.

That you would pedal again.  Dance again.  Be a wise ass again.

Today’s run was by far the hardest run I have ever done…because it was without hope of seeing those mischievous blue eyes again.

I ran anyway.

Every step hurt more than the last.

Every step seemed farther and farther away from you.

Once the clock turned to 2, it would all begin.

People would see you.

The lie I have told myself for the past 2 days would be revealed…

You are actually gone.

Worse, is that I know you were not running with me…because running is stupid and in my mind you are riding a hot pink Townie while your dogs chase you into the sun.

I just flicked a Skittle at your photo for sticking me with this running nightmare.

Tomorrow, each of us will all say goodbye to you differently…

…but I will carry you (and some Skittles) with me for the rest of my days, just as you carried me through the beginning of them.

I hate that sound.  I have heard that sound with the heavy sentences that follow too many times.  I am in tune with Lisa on this by now.

She followed her tears with a sentence I was not expecting…and it was better than I had thought but still pretty awful.

My aunt Anna, who is 85 and is my godmother is having her leg amputated tomorrow.

Anna is not only my godmother, but she was the nanny to all 4 of us and the person who introduced me to bikes as a “thing”.

Anna has never driven.  She rarely takes mass transit.

Anna rides her bike everywhere….until recently.

She has diabetes and has developed a leg-full of blood clots.  She was just told that if they don’t take the leg, she will die.

Anna’s heart is challenged and her body weak.  She doesn’t have an appetite.

She does still have her amazing sense of humor though…and sometimes that is all the difference.

She is already planning her life in the wheelchair and the new clothes she will buy.

The soonest I can get there is Thursday and I have a heaviness in my throat from the deja vu I am experiencing after receiving an awful call the day after St. Patty’s in 2003 when my grandma fell and broke her hip and had to have surgery.

I booked the flight and hopped the plane with an infant Sass and made it to the hospital to see my grandma after surgery and have her whisper to Lisa and me and smile and the next morning she was gone.

Anna deserves to have her Redmond kids around her.  We owe it to her for being there when others weren’t.

We owe it to her for always being there for us brats even when we told her we didn’t need her.

We owe it her for introducing us to bikes, rated-R movies, red nail polish, roller skates, cool jeans, prime time soaps, vanilla Italian sodas, egg creams, the best baloney sandwiches, and candy.  LOTS of candy.

I saw parts of Brooklyn I would never have noticed if not on the back of her bike.

I found parts of myself that I didn’t know were there until I realized that her bike routes imprinted a map to my grandpa’s house in my brain…just in case.

Days like today you realize that you didn’t talk to people often enough.

Days like today you realize how small so much else is.

Days like today I feel pretty fortunate because I did not have to make the decision that Anna did.

Days like today you are not a 39-year-old grown woman, but instead a little girl in a sun dress and white Mary Janes climbing onto the touring rack of a bright red Schwinn and squeezing your Anna until she bursts while she whips through the city traffic…

I’ll pull for a while, Anna.  Just stay.