text: I was thirteen years old when I got sick, and after a year I still wasn't getting any better. I was allowed to go home for a day, then it would get worse again and I would be ushered back to the hospital. After a while, instead of getting slightly better every week I just got worse. I think we all knew I wasn't going to get better, but nobody would admit it. I, however, accepted my fate and decided to just die with no regrets. My parents sat beside me day and night, talking with the doctors about my condition, and frantically trying to eliminate the sickness. But it was useless. Day after day I got worse and worse until the day I died. It was in February, and I died alongside the cold. My parents sat beside me, trying not to weep at the doctor's words. My mother was pleading for them to cast their nets wider, but they had done everything they could, it got to the point where they gently broke the news to my parents. "She isn't going to make it, I'm very sorry. The most we can do for her now is keep her comfortable." I wasn't supposed to hear that, but it didn't bother me, I had known it for some time now. They called my family, and stayed strong for me. Everybody came as quickly as they could, and I died with my mother and father holding my hands, my mother's gentle touch stroking my hair and singing the lullaby she always used to sing. I told them, "Thank you for everything, I have no regrets, I will come back to you." I closed my eyes, and with that, Gray Merilind was gone. The moment I was gone my family broke down into sobs and tears. It's been five months since my daughter died, my beloved Gray. I raised her, and it was too soon for my baby to leave me. None of us can bring ourselves to enter her room, it brings back too many memories of the good days. We try to stay as upbeat as we can, but her siblings are taking it the hardest. We try to comfort them but it doesn't seem to do much. It's been a year now, and I'm going to go into her room. She wouldn't want me to linger on her death for as long as I have. I opened the door and forced a step, then another, until I was sitting on the bed. Her figurines and books lined the walls, her floor covered in laundry and her bed messy. Everything was covered in dust. Just more proof of how long it's been I suppose. We live in a big house out in the country, and have the entire road to ourselves. Our nearest neighbor is a kind old couple who had sent us a care package when Gray died. Oh Gray, she loved the stone bricks and the wood that made up the cottage, the layered shingles on the roof. She loved the soft grass in the yard and the river and the big birch tree. I decided at that moment that we should clean up her bedroom. Everything would stay, never to be moved until the day someone else lives here long after us. I brought the suggestion to my son and other daughter, Gray's siblings, and they received the idea better than I thought they would. George and Lucy came upstairs, and with the same difficulty I had, forced themselves to come inside. It makes me proud how strong my children are. My husband joined us soon after. Her father and I dusted the room and cleaned Gray's dirty clothes, tucking them folded into her dresser. We washed the blankets and neatly made her bed, vacuumed the carpet and swept the floor while George and Lucy caringly dusted her shelves and cleaned the figures of her favourite characters. Then, while we were throwing away the wrappers and removing the half filled cups of now stagnant water on her nightstand, we found a carefully enveloped letter sitting on her desk. What it said brought a fresh wave of pain and made us all begin to cry. It read, To mother, father, George and Lucy, Leon my dear dog, everybody who loved me, thank you. I know I don't have much time left here, but this is my final message to you. My life is over, but please don't wallow, be strong for me. Some people have entrusted me with their deepest secrets, and as promised, I have taken them to the grave. I have always had a wish, an impossible one, but one I have always longed for. I wished to fly, not on a plane, but with my own two wings, those of a bird. I won't leave you alone like this forever. I can't just let George and Lucy grow up without me now can I? But whether it is tomorrow, or on your own death bed to lead you to your place among the stars, I promise, no, I vow, on the name you gave me, Gray Merilind, I will come back to you. 18/2/2004 That voice, it was Gray to a T. It was my dear daughter's final message to us, one I will hold close to my heart until the day I die. I decided I would wait until the earth collapsed for her to return, and when she did, I would remember her no matter what. George and Lucy cried themselves to sleep that night, their father and I tried to comfort them, but they said that they wouldn't sleep, they wouldn't miss it when their beloved sister returned. I was only able to convince them to rest by telling them I was sure Gray would wake them if they were asleep when she came back. I’m not ashamed to say we all cried ourselves to sleep. It's been four months since I found Gray's letter, and I've decided to take everybody camping to her favorite place. A secluded area beside a lake. When we got there we immediately went to the site. We had booked the one beside the woods, closest to the lake and what we now called Gray's Rock. It's a large boulder overlooking the lake far into the woods beyond the campgrounds, and as far as I know, we’re the only people who know about it. You can see into the forest for miles from its peak. On one night, after a day at the beach, I went alone to Grays Rock. It was dark, but warm. I felt as though I was being watched the entire walk, but it was a forest, you feel that everywhere. I was cautious though and made it to Grays Rock safely. I sat at the peak and watched the lake, it sparkled in the moonlight. After a while I began remembering the days when I would be looking for Gray, only to find her without fail sitting peacefully on the rock, her short, straight, brown hair and green and brown clothes rustling in the wind while she hummed to herself and looked over the lake. She would sit up, turn her head and say " There you are! I've been waiting for forever! Come sit with me, the lake is beautiful today." We would sit and talk, and watch the lake. I was pulled from my thoughts by a soft humming coming from behind me, but when I turned to see who it was I saw nothing. At first. I looked closer and saw a figure blending in with the trees. It was a young woman. Her skin was made of silvery birch bark and her feet were big hoof-like stumps. Her neat, long, brown hair tumbled over her back and down her legs in waves while her shimmering green eyes watched me calmly with a soft smile on her white lips. Her voice reminded me of something I couldn’t quite place. She continued to hum to herself, but then she started swinging a long silver stick with a teardrop shaped lantern on the end and dancing playfully to the tune. She spun and stepped and swung while I watched in awe. The pace quickened until she spun and held out a hand to me. I carefully stood up and took her hand while I still stared, wide eyed. A knowing glint flashed across her features and together, we danced. We twirled slowly in circles and danced to her singing, a haunting, beautiful tune. All the while she never let go of my hand, she must have known I would be stumbling without her guidance. Then when the tune dwindled to a close she did something I didn’t expect. Her arms were suddenly around me pulling me into a tender, loving embrace. She was much taller than me, I realized. It lasted for at least a minute before she pulled away. It felt like part of my body went with her. She gave me a sad smile, and wiped away a tear I hadn’t even noticed was there. Not a word was said as she swung the lantern in front of her. It was the first good look I had gotten into the lantern, but instead of fire, there was a cluster of small blue flowers inside, a warm yellow light coming from them. She carefully plucked one from its place and tucked it behind my ear, her hand lingering on my cheek for a moment before she pressed her forehead to mine, and not a word was said as she walked away into the woods. I sat stunned for a while after she’d left, the dancing had filled me with energy and warmth and I had no clue what I had just seen. Then it dawned on me. Who the humming had reminded me of, who had tucked flowers she picked behind my ears, who had pressed her forehead against mine as a way of saying goodbye. Gray. I jumped up and ran into the woods, calling her name, each time I called for her I became more and more sure of who she was. “Gray! Gray!” No response. No silver figure who seemed to melt out of the trees appeared and offered to dance. No flower lantern caught my eye with its warm yellow glow. I saw no sign of her, but I was soon back at the campsite, collapsing into my husband's arms and falling asleep there, still crying. The flower Gray had given me didn’t wilt. It stayed perky as it was inside the flower lantern even after we had returned home. It didn’t glow like it had inside the lantern, but it still shone with an inexplicable light. It didn’t look right in a vase, so I took it outside and on a whim, planted it at the base of the bug birch tree. The next morning Lucy came running into my bedroom, shaking me until I was awake. “Mama, mama!” she yelled, shaking me as hard as her little hands could. “You have to see this! The yard is full of flowers!” I bolted upright, following Lucy downstairs and out the front door. What I saw took my breath away. The blue flowers blossomed in every patch of grass, on the riverbank and creeping up to the edges of the porch. The flowers come back every spring, all love them, and all of us have at least one story to tell about seeing a tree woman with a lantern and warm eyes. Sometimes we see her dancing in the yard, or smelling flowers out of the corner of our eyes, or sitting on the bank of the stream, dangling her feet into the water.