It is Tuesday and I’ve been busy with all the business life throws at me. I know why you hiked and went into the woods so often. It was to escape all the clutter of things in this world. I have used that clutter to escape from sorrow. Today it seems I can’t hold a thought in my mind for very long and have struggled with the list that I have of things to do.
I miss our quiet time together. You on the couch with a book. The dogs snugged up against you. A cup of tea in your hand, your index finger through the cup handle, the rest around the base holding it. You could sit still but your hands fidgeted.
Sometimes you would twirl your hair. If you had on a back pack and were standing still your hands were occupied worrying the loose straps. Your long fingers were often active when your body was at rest. It is strange that of all things I remember that.
I picture you with one arm as if to cross it across your chest, with your elbow rested on it so that you could reach to your head and twirl that hair. You were so funny about your hair. You kept it long for a while and then suddenly became friends with the clippers, buzzing it down short. In the past year you were getting it cut somewhere, though you would never admit where. It was a great game we had. Me pestering you about who had cut your hair, you claiming you had done it, complete with shaving your neck. Yeah, right.
I have to stop myself from buying things I think you would like. It is like a reflex. I see a variety of tea or some stupid candy and think how you would like it.
I see where the series on PBS is coming back about Sherlock Holmes. You liked that series and hoped they would produce more. Should I watch them? Can I stand to? I can’t watch House anymore or even Law and Order. I know that is dumb.
Your music is all over my car. I stored so much of your music in the “Jukebox” on my car when you would bring me a CD. I listen selectively. Music has always stirred me emotionally and your music serves up a double whammy. To tell you the truth some of it is so very weird I have wondered if you were picking on me to see if I would dare to question your musical tastes. You were such a snob concerning some things.
You would really like this crazy dog Sky. He is such a clown. He is incredibly smart. He can open gates with his nose. He likes other dogs a lot and did really well on the beach. People coming at him suddenly to try and pet him makes him back up and bark. It isn’t like Asa bellowing into their face, but it is probably driven by the same type of fear reaction.
Asa is doing great. He is aging and still has seizures. Your sister and brother-in-law take good care of him. He is amazingly adaptive. He loves your sister. Sadie is fine. She is still as skinny as a rail and probably needs a few good flocks of sheep to occupy her time. You sister is attached to them. They are a link with you. I know Asa does not think of you but sometimes I look at him and feel myself projecting my sorrow on him. Of course we have to blame you for us having Sky at all. Your dad and I both can laugh about that how he was acquired.
Your sister is doing well. Her job is challenging and interesting. She is talented and organized. I miss her being closer. Not that I could see her any more often as busy as she is, but just having her closer would be nice.
Well, I am quickly working my way through a box of tissues writing this. So I guess I’ll sign off for now.
I just have to tell you that the smallest parts of you, perhaps unnoticed by others are the largest part of me. The nuances of how you and your sister are, have not been lost on me. I have collected them all and when in your presence they are my checklist, touchstone and comfort. I have been a greedy mother collecting these things for years. I invested my time with you because the payoff in love was worth more to me than anything else in the world. It is not easy to live without being able to experience the further expression of our love. It is part of my sustenance.
I can rest in the assurance that you knew while you were alive that we loved you. Too much so perhaps if that is possible. We also knew that you loved us. I know. I repeat myself a lot, but I have to reassure myself fairly often.
I am so sorry that you are gone.
Beautifully written. I got a lump in my throat reading this. I’m so, so sorry to hear of your loss. Keep writing. Much love,
Beautiful letter. My thoughts are with you and your family. Take care.
Thank you for your writings. They are many of the same things I would have said to my Michael. Of all that I have read since his death your words have given me the most comfort.
thanks Cecelia. That means more than you know.