A Dear John Letter

Dear John,

Four years ago today, we had a really sucky day, didn’t we.

Surreally sucky, in fact. I got mom’s call around 6:00am – the dreaded call that I somehow knew was coming that morning. I rolled out of bed, crawling into my teal Gap hoodie that I’ve had since high school – a sweatshirt in July seems crazy I know, but I needed the comfort – and headed to the hospital. I got there, and Mom was there, and you were there. But you weren’t really. Your body was, but you’d already peaced out. So to speak.

But I won’t dwell on that day. Because today is a better 24th of July. We’re still sad, Mom and I. We still had tears in our eyes as we headed to the outlet mall this morning, talking about how you would want us to be bargain-hunting today. Not that we needed anything at the outlets – we’re just trying to distract ourselves. And that’s okay.

The air is thick with you today. And that’s okay too.

At the Coach outlet, Mom treated herself to a good lookin’ signature tote bag – first quality, not the crap they’re making for the outlets these days – with purple patent leather trim. The saleslady who helped us was named Hannah. We took that as a sign that you were with us.

Wherever you are – and I do believe that you are still somewhere in this universe, in some capacity – I hope you are happy, and at peace. I hope you have retained your passion and your intellect and your integrity and your quirks (well, most of them anyway).

I hope you know how much we love you, and will always love you.

From Michigan, then, where Mom is finding much-deserved happiness – though I’m sure that’s not news to you,

Love,
Jennifer