Isaac's POV
It had been almost five years since Hannah had died, and I was still struggling. Genna, Dalia, and Kathryn had all fought and beaten their cancers. I had proposed to Genna two weeks ago, and she said yes, but I was still mourning my sister's death. I stood there, looking at her grave. Hannah McKenzie Dixon. May 13, 1996 - June 5, 2015. Beloved Sister, Daughter, and Friend. Jeremiah 31:3. I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder, and turned to see Genna there.
"Hey. She wouldn't want you to still be this upset about it." I sighed, kissing her cheek.
"I know. But it's hard. I lost my twin. I can't ever get over that." She smiled sadly, taking my hand.
"And you're not expected to. You just don't need to freeze the rest of your life because of that. You're healed, because God is here with you. Coming back is going to be painful, but you can do it. God is the great physician, and he's healed you. Now tell your heart to beat again." I bowed my head, hugging her, and I cried. We both cried, standing there, and I released it. I released everything I was holding on to since Hannah had died. I remembered what our older brother, Joel, had said when we saw him on Easter.
"I'll see you soon, Hannah." I took a deep breath, realizing that he knew she was going to die. Genna looked at me, smiling gently. I kissed her, and she headed back to her car. I placed the violets on her headstone, smiled sadly, and walked away, hands in my pockets. I was at mom and dad's place until the wedding, but I was getting an apartment ready. I drove home, one of dad's songs on the radio. I'll Be The Light. Hannah's favorite. I pulled up to our house, and got out, pulling the trash can up. I saw the picture that had been taken in the middle of her doing a cover for Rachel Platten's Fight Song. It had been awhile since I'd watched that, to be honest. Mom didn't sing anymore, and dad didn't smile as much. It was like the only happiness in our lives had been taken when Hannah died. But it hadn't. I opened the door to Hannah's room, going in and silently closing the door behind me. Everything was the way she had left it. I had put Hannah's journal back on her bookshelf, since mom refused to believe that there was something in there for her. It wasn't there. I went back out, and saw mom sitting on the edge of her bed, holding the journal and crying. She closed it, clutching it to her chest and sobbing. I went in, putting my hand on her shoulder. She put the journal down, and wrapped her arms around me. I hugged her, whispering to her.
"Mom, it's okay. You know she's not sick anymore, and she's happy. I miss her too. But we can't stay in this. We have to tell our hearts to beat again." She hugged me, and we just sat there crying. She nodded a few minutes later.
"You're right. We can't stay like this. We can keep going, but not forget about her." That day, our whole family accepted that fact. We couldn't mourn for the rest of our lives. Four months later, Genna and I were married. Two years later, our oldest daughter was born. Her name? Hannah Elisabeth Dixon. I was finally reunited with Hannah, Joel, mom, dad, and the rest of our family many years later, at the age of eighty-four. My little family now included Genna, our five children, twelve grandchildren, and two great-grandchildren. And in every generation, at least one of the girls had the name Hannah somewhere in their name. I guess you could say that Hannah McKenzie Dixon was gone.....but not forgotten. And she wouldn't be forgotten. And I guess through her, our family had a new legacy. A legacy of love and strength...and a Legacy Of Hope.