Did I ever tell you about how my husband died? No? Well, maybe someday I will. It’s an odd story. We were an odd couple. It was that strangeness that made us make sense. You don’t need the story of how he died for this blog. You just need to know that after he died periodically I would write a letter to him catching him up on the things he’d missed. I don’t know if it’s the fact that his Angelversary is on Friday, or if this season of my life is full of significant changes, but I felt compelled to write him an update. Among the many things Brad could do, writing was one of them. When he spoke to you, his intelligence was immediately present, but boy did it shine in his writing. You needed a dictionary, thesaurus, or a higher power to try and decipher what he was saying. He had the hand writing of a serial killer, the soul of an alien, and a heart that matched my rhythm. I loved getting letters from him because it was a deep dive into the rabbit hole of his thoughts. They were sometimes dark and fatalistic and there were a lot of pathways leading to various places. Some of those places revealed the hurt in his life, some were guarded but I always found the ones that led to light and laughter.
Dear Brad,
It’s been 10 years, 3, 650 days, and 87, 600 hours since you died, but who’s counting? Certainly not me. Oh, I did. I did at first. I counted non stop. Then one day I realized that there’s never really a day that goes by that you don’t enter my mind or that I don’t share an experience with you silently to myself or even out loud sometimes. So I stopped counting.
This moment in time feels different. It’s because of time, really. Our daughter started her freshman year of high school a few weeks ago. When that milestone really hit me, it didn’t hit me in my gut where she began, but my heart…on that day on that park bench that I told her, “Your daddy is going to die.” She was four years old. She was five when we left our communities of Texas and Oklahoma behind for the bright, inclusive and bizarre energy of California. She has now spent most of her life growing up in a quaint suburb of LA. So much of the world we shared, you and I, has not been her world at all. Can you believe that?
Thank God for technology. If it were not for pictures and videos our girl would have very little of you branded in her brain. At this point her bonus dad, Peter, has been her father longer than you got to be. I would be angry at that, if I didn’t know in my being that you sent Peter to her and I. Peter and I talk enough about you that there’s no way she could forget you if she wanted to, and she doesn’t want to. In fact, my son who never met you, knows a lot about you, we talk about you so much. Well, we talk about you just enough, not because Peter cares but because I know you do. I can tell sometimes that you feel like an intruder. You never really got your worth here and I don’t know that’s changed all that much in the void where you are now. You’re so fucking humble. Just take the compliment.
Let’s see. What else is going on? I picked up jogging again. I think it’s been about a year now. I still don’t think I could keep up with your long legs, but I’m stronger now and can go longer distances. Probably still a better sprinter as I’m “lower to the ground,” as you would say. Funny, I just realized that you never made me feel short. You towered over me, and would sometimes refer to me as a “little sprite,”but never short. In fact you made me feel big, like I took up space. Thanks for that.
One of our sweet nephews and his girlfriend moved to LA a few weeks ago. I remember the day I met that rosy cheek cherub little baby and now he’s a college graduate taking on a much bigger adventure. Isn’t that insane? And you want to know something even wilder? He reminds me so much of you. He’s creative and lean, quirky and sweet and I SWEAR there’s a piece of you some where in there. I hope I’m right because that means when he hugs our girl or me, maybe you can feel it?
All of our families are doing okay. There have been some new additions and some that I suppose are now with you. I’m sure you’ve met Peter’s mom by now. She and I chatted about you before she died and I know there’s no way she didn’t seek you out when she left. You and Peter’s brother, Nick, are similar in a lot of ways but then, I’m sure she’s told you that. You will be happy to know that I’ve devoted more energy here this year than back home. That hasn’t been an easy thing to do and I’m glad I’ve shifted things. My creativity has deepened and suddenly my community here has grown. I didn’t realize how much I wasn’t really being present here. Family is just so important to me and I was kind of letting that influence a lot of my decisions and direction. Here’s something humorous. You know how I don’t say “in-laws?” I love to watch the confusion on people’s faces when I start talking about brothers and sisters and they are like, “Wait, are these your actual siblings? Brad’s siblings? Peter’s siblings? Friends that you call siblings?” I pretty much answer with, “They’re MY siblings..” and leave it at that. I think people have come to accept that or they are chronically confused and that’s okay too. Speaking of siblings, did I thank you for my son? Well, that didn’t come out right. He sometimes makes a comment that he didn’t get to meet you and Peter and I always remind him that if you were here…he wouldn’t be. Our siblings were a huge factor in why I was able to carry on without you. I absolutely factored that in when making the decision to have another child. I wanted to give our girl that experience. So, thank you. Ugh, just take the compliment, man!
As far as my artistry goes, I’ve decided to do the play. I’ve done my best at giving you a voice. Knowing you, you probably don’t think you were a worthy enough character to be in anyone’s play, but you were. You are. Obviously I’m writing again. I don’t know how long this venture will last, but I’m doing it.
Peter and I just celebrated our 7th year anniversary. We are half-way to where you and I ended. I know we will go the distance. The distance it takes until one of our heart’s gets broken. No great love ends without heart break. I know that now. Someone leaves and someone is left behind. The book ends. The story? The essence of any good story, however, never ends. So, yeah…I’m writing a new book. Our story was a good one though, Bradley. Say hello to my dad and brother for me, they’ve been on my mind a lot lately. And Brad? If you ever want to get a message to me or speak through someone else to chat….I’m around
**Everything I write comes from my personal insights and has all the drippings of my opinions, biases, and what-nots. Rather than come for me with facts or judgements to contradict my said opinions, biases and what-nots, I’d rather you find a different blog that makes you happy. If you find these posts therapeutic or helpful in anyway that means we connected and it’s all I can ask for, however I’m not a therapist nor a coach. I’m just a writer floating words out there hoping they find the person they are intended for.