A Letter

Buried underneath a new issue of Entertainment Weekly and a bill I can wait to open was a letter from your Mom. Her handwriting a swirl of blue loops and curls just like I remembered it. I made an offhand remark about the fact that she’d written me a letter and then tucked it back where I’d found it because I was scared to read it.  I don’t know exactly what I was thinking it might say but the threat of sadness made me stick it back.

I finally opened it two, maybe three days later when I had finally steeled myself against the contents. Your Mom, she’s sweet. She misses you a lot, more than anyone on this enormous planet & she’s been making sure to check in, making sure that I don’t fade into obscurity. Part of me is grateful for that and part of me wishes that her affection didn’t immediately remind me that you’re gone. I’m wondering when that part goes away or if it ever does.

I’m pretty sure the same day she woke up to write that letter was the day I sat at my desk at work and wrote you a tearful letter. I’ve yet to tell her that every time she texts me it’s always a day when you’ve been heavy on my mind. I don’t know if she’d think that was sweet or try to communicate with me less. I don’t ever want her to think that I’m trying to forget you. I’m not, I won’t, I can’t.

I suppose that I’ll write her a letter back. Maybe this is the best for both of us.

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