Hi Alex,
Mom and I stayed up for the New Year last night. I know …. this was very, very late for us. This morning came all too soon, and now we are dragging around the house. We did suit up and push the snow off the driveway, but this took more energy from us when we had hoped it might bring more energy to us. So, now I have a few slower moving moments to write to you.
Alex, I wanted to tell you that, since you weren’t able to be here this Christmas, we used your Christmas Stocking for toys and treats for the dogs. We are sure you’d agree. Ditto still misses you, as dogs who come to love us always will. And, as you know, he loves beef jerky as a treat, for which his tail wags “thank you.” That particular treat is something that he still has in common with me, as I am sure you’d agree.
Alex, I also want to tell you that as I was pulling out the holiday gear from the basement this year, I came across a stack of your letters. It was bittersweet for me, as I am sure you’d agree. You were writing to tell us how unhappy you were and how disappointed in us you were when we didn’t bring you home on that Christmas so long ago. Instead, we made plans for you to have a wilderness experience. You and I spoke about this, as you will surely recall. I still feel that it was the best that we could come up with at the time, given what we were all going through. If we could go back in time, I would have had you home with us for the holiday. Not only for us, but also for the friends that you were missing too.
I am sure that you still feel it doesn’t matter, but you should know how proud we were that you were doing so well in school then, and getting along with others at the school. But, as you say in your letter, this success didn’t soften your pain. So, Alex, I am sorry. I still like to believe that there may have been some genuine good that came from that pain, but as I reread your letter your pain overwhelms me. For all our ups and downs, you must know that Mom and I so dearly love you. We’d do anything to have your back now, as I am sure you’d agree.
It has been three years, now going on four, since we lost you. Our pain has changed, and some might say softened, but whenever I come across things that remind me of you, and see your photo hanging in the half-bath, I ache something terrible. I have learned to carry you with me. You are part of me, and I am now a different me. I have been working with some of those you know who help each other manage awkward parts of life. They seem to think I am doing well. Once, one of them said that she was certain you’d be proud of me. Perhaps this is why I am still here.
On another subject, your cat Seline is doing well. David has adopted him into his space. He always wanted to be the big brother who you wanted. Alex, David is a good brother. If fact it was David who suggested that we use your Christmas stocking for the pets.
You might be wondering about our cat, Neukie. Well, he just keeps getting older. He is 19 now, and I am willing to bet that I probably will outlive him after all. As you might suspect, Neukie is lost in time ever more frequently now. He doesn’t seem to know which of his three favorite things he wants; his food, his comfy bed, or his outdoor space … so he stands uncertainly and mews in the dark at night. Mom and I do lose sleep getting up to settle him, but what else can we do. We are kind of wired that way, as I am sure you’d agree.
It seems like more and more of life for us now is moving toward that timeless lost-in-time space that Neukie has found. I don’t know what time is like for you where you are just now, Alex. Do you still feel time? Has the rush to live life quieted any for you. You lived with such urgency. Time feels different for me now. The urgencies of life’s minutia still sweep me forward, but not with the same sense of purpose anymore. Maybe the way that things are supposed to be as later life closes in on me. But let’s talk about this later.
I guess what I really mean to say is that though it has been so long since I last heard your voice, Alex, you were here about a month ago. As I was driving past at Taco Bell, I heard you say that you wanted a crunch wrap supreme, and I felt myself smile. I don’t stop there anymore though. I can’t bring myself to stop there without you.
Well, I suspect that you may have some better things to do than to listen me prattling on. Let me just say this much more … In my letters to you, as I swap my thoughts and feelings with you, I imagine you nearby. You have left an essence on this house … much more than an echo, an actual vibe. Even Ditto still turns his head toward the door whenever your name is mentioned. You are not forgotten. You can never be forgotten. But you know this. I am sure you’d agree.
I hope that wherever you are in time and in space, Alex, that the coming year will bring you the happiness that you have so long sought … that poor decision will be forgiven, and that your positive spirit will carry you forward. I will say hi to the folks in town who still ask about you.
Love,
Dad
P.S. I will write again soon. I am sure that you’d agree.