I apologize if talking to you and dad is distracting, visiting with you as if you're both standing right there next to me on my back stoop, watching the rain soak the tomato plants, imagining dad complaining that I'm mowing the grass too low. But that doesn't mean I'm going to stop talking to you.
I was telling dad that he had to go before you did, because I don't think he could've abided you wasting away in that hospital. He was certainly stoic and strong, like Jesse, but, then again, you were you, and you meant the world to him. I.e., you were stronger in the end.
I apologize if pretending to watch movies with you two is annoying. We never did get to watch Pride And Prejudice together, but we both know that dad would've fallen asleep 20 minutes into it.
Did you hear me tell you that I wish Jess had been just a little less... protective of me when you got sick last year, and a little more... insistent that I move up there ASAP? I don't blame him. It's my fault. I hope you're not put out with me.
I apologize for not being able to move on yet. I suppose it'll occur to me eventually that in order to honor both of your lives, I have no choice but to move on. (Though I think I might have to convince Cameron to marry me and have a son, because Augie is the only grandson with our last name, and I suspect he might be gay!)
I apologize for imagining that you're both laughing at that.
Anyways, I hope where you guys are, they have reruns of Walker, Texas Ranger, Murder, She Wrote, and Doctor Quinn, Medicine Woman. It'd be only fair.
Happy Birthday, mom. I miss you dearly.
4 comments:
What I meant to say elsewhere is, hang in there. This exact thing won't get "better" (how could it), but you'll get used to it. And good things will happen in their time. I'd want you to know that.
Take your time. These things have their own clock and calendar, different from the rest of the world.
I have to say, you've been extremely kind and helpful through all this, Iso. I don't know how to thank you. I guess it's just a testament to the sort of person you are.
I think of you and your Jesse more often than you'd expect. He was a great kid, but probably because he had a great mom. Moms rule.
I have so many stories that need to be written, so much of her to share. But, and I'll explain this later, I feel a little deader with every telling.
Caught this on Morning Edition this morning. Just outside of the 'Ham evidently. The competition?
(I have no idea what to say, of course. I imagine anyone would want to be remembered so well. I know I do.)
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