Last night I found a receipt for September 19th from Granby Package Store. It was for Twisted Tea's for Pat and Lierin. Just now, I stumbled across the emails from Pat dated the same day.
I cannot bear the thought that one day these little reminders will not be there. They will disappear along with my memory of the sound of his voice. I can't imagine that a day will come and his emails will be long buried under the months of others.
I opened up my Google Documents page and there was the folder "Pat and Lierin's Wedding." It had their guest list, a work in progress. I had created a page of links with ideas for their reception. I couldn't stand looking at it, so I deleted it. And now I want it back where it was.
This will eventually stop hurting won't it? I can't stop going to his Myspace and his Facebook pages. I can't stop reading his Legacy guestbook or his obituary.
He was supposed to be here dammit. He was supposed to be at my wedding, at my sons' graduation. And every other fricking time I wanted to talk to him. He wasn't supposed to die. He was supposed to be a dad and a grandfather.
We weren't finished with him. We needed him too.
I cannot bear the thought that one day these little reminders will not be there. They will disappear along with my memory of the sound of his voice. I can't imagine that a day will come and his emails will be long buried under the months of others.
I opened up my Google Documents page and there was the folder "Pat and Lierin's Wedding." It had their guest list, a work in progress. I had created a page of links with ideas for their reception. I couldn't stand looking at it, so I deleted it. And now I want it back where it was.
This will eventually stop hurting won't it? I can't stop going to his Myspace and his Facebook pages. I can't stop reading his Legacy guestbook or his obituary.
He was supposed to be here dammit. He was supposed to be at my wedding, at my sons' graduation. And every other fricking time I wanted to talk to him. He wasn't supposed to die. He was supposed to be a dad and a grandfather.
We weren't finished with him. We needed him too.
Jenn,
ReplyDeleteYou can recall those reminders again, and again. The good thing about memories is they never wear out. It's been 25 years since Jimbo's passing. I can still hear his voice, his laugh, his excuses. I love it when I dream about him, it's like he came back for a night. Stay strong.
Lisa
God bless you guys. Lisa and Annie... I'm printing out all your comments so my family can read them and pull strength from you.
ReplyDeleteThanks so much.
God blessed you Jenn, with the gift of writing. You have found a way to turn tragedy into helping others heal.
ReplyDeleteI have a stronger urge to hold dear to my heart what is really important in my daily life.
Thats the angel- with the green wings- at work.
Much Love, Lisa