Thursday, March 7, 2013

A Letter to Danny - March 7, 2013

Hi Honey:

It's funny what spawns memories.  Two years ago, would I have thought that picking up a package of frozen mixed vegetables would bring memories of you flooding in.  Was it happenstance that led me to the frozen food aisle, to open the door and remove the package.  Or was it you guiding me there so when looked down at the package in my hand, I would be reminded of how you liked those vegetables.  I would be reminded of you and the thousands of meals I prepared for you and with everyone, I would receive your praise; each meal was the "best you ever had".  It didn't matter if I fixed you prime rib with baked potatoes or tuna on toast.  Of course, you had your favorites.  Hamburger paddies with onions floating in a rich gravy to be poured over mashed potatoes, was one.  Then of course there were tacos.  "It doesn't take much food for you and me," you would say, but I would end up cooking for a family of nine anyway.  Old habits die hard. 

Those old habits, my love, include my walking through the mens clothing department in the stores and having my mind wonder if you need a new pair of Levis or if you would like that plaid shirt.  Then my mind reminds me you don't need either and my heart feels the knife once again; grief reminding me you are gone.  I don't need to buy you Bic razors or Old Spice aftershave.  I don't need to worry if you have a jacket that will keep you warm enough or if I need to pick up your prescriptions.  I don't need to worry, but oh God what I wouldn't give to be able to worry about you once again.

My grief bounces back between you and Daren.  I guess because you both needed me so much, makes losing you both so hard.  I'm glad you needed me honey.  I'm glad he did.  I just didn't know at the time how important your need was to me.  Neither of you need me now.  Instead, it is I that need you.  I need you both to stay by me.  I need you to help me. 

You see my love, we still have 37 people on this earth that we love dearly: children, their spouses and twenty-five grandchildren.  I need you to do what you can, where you and Daren are at, to help watch over them all.  As much as this old mother hen would like to, I can't shelter them under my wings anymore.  I can't be around them all to make certain they are safe and protected.  I can only do so much to convince them to try and make right choices in their lives.  I will continue to pray for them all and as my prayers reach toward heaven, listen. Knowing you and Daren can hear them will let me rest knowing you too are doing all you can to protect our family circle.  With that knowledge, neither of you will seem so far away.

Danny, I love you.  I am thankful we shared this life together.  I'm thankful we took the good and the bad, rolled it and molded it into what would be our life.  It's funny, but those bad times really don't seem important anymore.  There were time when they took front stage in life but when all is said and done, they really weren't important in the play at all.  They were just filler in our story.  They took up space.  The plot of our story from the prologue to the epilogue and all the chapters in between was love.  Even when you and Daren closed the cover of your book of life, the love remained.  For after all, it is all that mattered anyway.

Tell our son there beside you that I love him.  Tell him I miss him and know yourself how very much I love and miss you. 

As for me, the curtain has yet to be brought down.  The character I am in this play of life still has more lines to read.  I hope to play my part well.  If you are able as you stand off-stage, whisper my lines to me should I forget.  Guide me to where I should be should I lose my way.  Knowing you both are there will comfort me.

I love you Honey.

Far Beyond the 12th of Never


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