Hi Honey:
I wish so much my mind would stay quiet for a while.
"Be quiet." I try to tell myself. "Be quiet and perhaps you will hear him whisper. Perhaps you will feel a soft breeze cross your cheek and you will know it's him. Perhaps you will glance to your right or to your left and see a sparkle and know that he is standing next to you. Be calm and perhaps you will smell the faint scent of Old Spice Aftershave or Elsha 1776 Cologne.
"Just relax, be calm, be quiet. You can do it," I tell myself.
I do know you are close by me Honey. I know that the golden thread that bound us together for fifty years has not broken just because I can't see you. I just miss you so much.
And because I do, I write; because when I write, is when I feel close to you. I know you read what I write. Now, you read it yourself, unlike when you were here and would have me read it to you.
You will read how much I love you, how much I miss you and how much I cherish the time we had together. You will read how I feel a part of my soul was torn away when you left me, and how now another part has been torn away by Daren's leaving.
You will read, and you will feel the pain I feel and even though I cannot physically see, or hear or smell you, I know you will touch that emptiness I feel in my spirit and you will numb it for a while. You cannot heal it. You can only numb it. It will only be healed when once again I can reach out and take your hand and feel your arms around me. But until that time, having it numb will do. It will help me function, and smile, and not worry our children. It will help me see the sunrise and sunset although it will never seem quite as beautiful again. But that's okay Honey, for I have seen the beauty in it before...with you.
Tell that boy of ours that his Mom loves him. Tell him I miss him so tremendously. Tell him I'll watch out for his sons until they have the footing to watch out for themselves.
Go have a cup of coffee with him. Tell him to have a little coffee with his sugar.
I love you Darling.
Far Beyond the 12th of Never
Susie
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
Daren's Story - Chapter 2
Summers were not the only season you loved. The winters brought a whole new set of joys for you. Snowball fights and snow huts were your thoughts when you were very young. As you grew a little older, skiing was your choice of winter fun. I would drop you and your brother and sisters off at North Park where you would catch the bus to Sundance. How you all loved your ski lessons. You would tell me later how good the tuna fish sandwiches tasted that I would make for you to take with you. When the lessons were over, I would be at the park to pick you up and you would all come home completely exhausted. You would take off your ski gear and grab pillows and blankets and lay on the front room floor to watch TV. Most of you would fall asleep.
You were so good at any sports you tried. In skiing you could do 360's. You would do back flips and land beautifully. Remember Honey, I wanted to send you to an Olympic Camp. How I wish I would have. Perhaps if I had, you would still be with me today. But only God knows.
Remember the time we decided to go skiing as a family, but your dad ended up needing to work. We loaded ski gear on top of the station wagon, along with Haley's little tobaggon and we all piled inside (along with one of your friends.) We got half way up the Sundance road when the snow became too deep for the car to continue so we pulled it to the side. We unloaded kids, skis, boots, poles and loaded them on Haley's little toboggon and each one of you took turns pulling it up the mountain. I kept asking "How much further is it?" and one of you would respond "It's just around the corner, Mom." When we turned the corner, I would be told the same thing to the same question. We made it though and it was a wonderful snowy night as I watched my children. Later we would call your dad and tell him he needed to come and get the car out of the snowdrift.
Your birthday was on December 3rd, so each year that would be the day I would put up our Christmas decorations. It became my tradition.
I remember one year I was stringing lights, as you were lying on the front room couch sick with tonsilitis. Your dad brought you home your BMX bike for your birthday but you were too sick to ride it. That was the same year the decision was made for you and Shannon to have your tonsils out. We even made a family event out of that. You were so brave until you were told to take off your boxers and put on a hospital gown. That was your undoing. "Let's just go home, Mom," you said. "Grandma can make me better." Finally, after the promise of you and Shannon having all the ice cream you wanted, you relented. Was that really so many years ago? I close my eyes and it seems like only yesterday.
Of course, there were things about you I didn't know. One instance I just found out at your funeral service last Friday. Apparently, my niece was tending you and your siblings. (I think I really need to call and apologize to every single sitter I ever hired after hearing the stories I have recently heard.) Diana was tending you and you crawled out your bedroom window and drove off in your dad's truck. You were probably eleven or twelve at the time. Diana was worried sick over you until you finally pulled back into the driveway. "See," you said. "I told you I could drive." Diana said she couldn't get mad at you because you were just so dang cute. Had I known at the time, I would have been mad enough for everyone.
If I close my eyes and listen closely, I can almost hear your laughter as you and your "cronies" (as your dad would call your friends) engage in a heated snowball fight. I can picture the street lamp shining outside our house illuminating the large white flakes being tossed about in the night. I can see you as fear causes a lump in my throat as I see you bizzing down the icy street holding onto the fenders of passing cars. I can hear your dad tell me "He's okay. I did that too when I was a kid. I held the record of thirty-four blocks."
How I love you my darling boy. How greatful I am to have my memories of my "Winter Son."
I miss you Honey.
Mom
-to be continued-
You were so good at any sports you tried. In skiing you could do 360's. You would do back flips and land beautifully. Remember Honey, I wanted to send you to an Olympic Camp. How I wish I would have. Perhaps if I had, you would still be with me today. But only God knows.
Remember the time we decided to go skiing as a family, but your dad ended up needing to work. We loaded ski gear on top of the station wagon, along with Haley's little tobaggon and we all piled inside (along with one of your friends.) We got half way up the Sundance road when the snow became too deep for the car to continue so we pulled it to the side. We unloaded kids, skis, boots, poles and loaded them on Haley's little toboggon and each one of you took turns pulling it up the mountain. I kept asking "How much further is it?" and one of you would respond "It's just around the corner, Mom." When we turned the corner, I would be told the same thing to the same question. We made it though and it was a wonderful snowy night as I watched my children. Later we would call your dad and tell him he needed to come and get the car out of the snowdrift.
Your birthday was on December 3rd, so each year that would be the day I would put up our Christmas decorations. It became my tradition.
I remember one year I was stringing lights, as you were lying on the front room couch sick with tonsilitis. Your dad brought you home your BMX bike for your birthday but you were too sick to ride it. That was the same year the decision was made for you and Shannon to have your tonsils out. We even made a family event out of that. You were so brave until you were told to take off your boxers and put on a hospital gown. That was your undoing. "Let's just go home, Mom," you said. "Grandma can make me better." Finally, after the promise of you and Shannon having all the ice cream you wanted, you relented. Was that really so many years ago? I close my eyes and it seems like only yesterday.
Of course, there were things about you I didn't know. One instance I just found out at your funeral service last Friday. Apparently, my niece was tending you and your siblings. (I think I really need to call and apologize to every single sitter I ever hired after hearing the stories I have recently heard.) Diana was tending you and you crawled out your bedroom window and drove off in your dad's truck. You were probably eleven or twelve at the time. Diana was worried sick over you until you finally pulled back into the driveway. "See," you said. "I told you I could drive." Diana said she couldn't get mad at you because you were just so dang cute. Had I known at the time, I would have been mad enough for everyone.
If I close my eyes and listen closely, I can almost hear your laughter as you and your "cronies" (as your dad would call your friends) engage in a heated snowball fight. I can picture the street lamp shining outside our house illuminating the large white flakes being tossed about in the night. I can see you as fear causes a lump in my throat as I see you bizzing down the icy street holding onto the fenders of passing cars. I can hear your dad tell me "He's okay. I did that too when I was a kid. I held the record of thirty-four blocks."
How I love you my darling boy. How greatful I am to have my memories of my "Winter Son."
I miss you Honey.
Mom
-to be continued-
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
Daren's Story - Chapter One
Prologue:
Good Morning Honey.
I've been thinking a lot about your story. The one we will not write together now that you've gone. But I still think your story needs to be told. So I will write it here in these pages. I know you will read them, so I ask that you inspire me with those things you want put in print. My prayer will be that your story will find it's way into the hearts of others and perhaps prevent just one child, teenager, adult from dropping into the abyss of drug addiction, or if they are there already, give them strength to crawl out. I do not know all of what your journey was, so without you, I will only be able to write about the road you and I traveled together. I write this with love and gratitude that you are my son and I was able to share your life.
Chapter 1
I know for certain you did not start out with the intent of becomming an addict. In my mind I can see my young tow-headed boy in cut-off jeans and sneakers headed down to the Provo River to hand fish. The sun danced its beams across your back adding to your deep tan. How you loved the sun. Your already blonde hair would become more blonde by the sun's rays and your beautiful blue eyes would sparkle with mischieviousness. Back then, I didn't realize that the sun you loved so much might cause skin cancer no more than I knew that it wasn't safe to give aspirin to children. So I let you play in the sun without sunscreen and I gave you aspirin disolved in Pepsi or Coke when you had a fever.
You were always flanked with friends. Friends who called you "Whiting". There were always an abundance of them at our house, raiding the popscicles out of our freezer. You and they would be building "jumps" in the quiet street of our house; jumps made from cinder blocks and pieces of wood that you would ride your BMX bike up and over. I can see you riding that bike without hands and on one wheel. This time when I see you in my memory, you are in a pair sneakers, brown jeans, and no shirt. It's strange what tidbits of information my mind has stored and is brought back to life when the memories flood.
We lived in a subdivision of Provo, Utah; a relatively new subdivision that had not been completed. The area to the west of our house was undeveloped; filled with leaves and bushes and shrubs and trees. This area to your siblings, friends and yourself would be termed "the hut". Long hours of the summer days would find you at "the hut" bulding adventures.
It is now I am thankful God blessed me with a good memory. For I sit here on my bed and for an instant in time, my "summer son" is with me again.
-to be continued-
Good Morning Honey.
I've been thinking a lot about your story. The one we will not write together now that you've gone. But I still think your story needs to be told. So I will write it here in these pages. I know you will read them, so I ask that you inspire me with those things you want put in print. My prayer will be that your story will find it's way into the hearts of others and perhaps prevent just one child, teenager, adult from dropping into the abyss of drug addiction, or if they are there already, give them strength to crawl out. I do not know all of what your journey was, so without you, I will only be able to write about the road you and I traveled together. I write this with love and gratitude that you are my son and I was able to share your life.
Chapter 1
I know for certain you did not start out with the intent of becomming an addict. In my mind I can see my young tow-headed boy in cut-off jeans and sneakers headed down to the Provo River to hand fish. The sun danced its beams across your back adding to your deep tan. How you loved the sun. Your already blonde hair would become more blonde by the sun's rays and your beautiful blue eyes would sparkle with mischieviousness. Back then, I didn't realize that the sun you loved so much might cause skin cancer no more than I knew that it wasn't safe to give aspirin to children. So I let you play in the sun without sunscreen and I gave you aspirin disolved in Pepsi or Coke when you had a fever.
You were always flanked with friends. Friends who called you "Whiting". There were always an abundance of them at our house, raiding the popscicles out of our freezer. You and they would be building "jumps" in the quiet street of our house; jumps made from cinder blocks and pieces of wood that you would ride your BMX bike up and over. I can see you riding that bike without hands and on one wheel. This time when I see you in my memory, you are in a pair sneakers, brown jeans, and no shirt. It's strange what tidbits of information my mind has stored and is brought back to life when the memories flood.
We lived in a subdivision of Provo, Utah; a relatively new subdivision that had not been completed. The area to the west of our house was undeveloped; filled with leaves and bushes and shrubs and trees. This area to your siblings, friends and yourself would be termed "the hut". Long hours of the summer days would find you at "the hut" bulding adventures.
It is now I am thankful God blessed me with a good memory. For I sit here on my bed and for an instant in time, my "summer son" is with me again.
-to be continued-
Monday, February 4, 2013
A Letter to Danny - February 4, 2013
Oh Honey. This sucks so bad.
I was just getting to the point where I could breathe again after losing you and now it starts all over with Daren.
I need you to help me with this one Honey. I know, people have been losing loved ones for as long as there've been loved ones and I am just one of the grains of sand; a tiny piece of matter in the scheme of things. But knowing I'm not alone in all the breaking hearts of time doesn't make the pain less.
It does make me feel better to know you and Daren are together. Rainee said she dreamed the other night that you and he were sitting in a cafe drinking coffee. She saw you bent over the table with your hands around your cup and Daren sitting with his legs crossed drinking his. You both looked so happy; laughing and talking.
I will think of you both that way. I will embedd that picture into my mind.
You know how I hated it when one of our family was by themselves. At Christmas time, Thanksgiving, Easter, or whenever, it always bothered me if you or one of our children were spending it alone. It comforts me that you are not alone and that he is not alone. You have each other and that makes me feel better.
Now, I am writing letters to you and our son, knowing that as they go off into the universe, you will catch them, read them, and know how much you are loved and missed.
I love you Honey. I miss you so much.
Far Beyond the 12th of Never
Susie
I was just getting to the point where I could breathe again after losing you and now it starts all over with Daren.
I need you to help me with this one Honey. I know, people have been losing loved ones for as long as there've been loved ones and I am just one of the grains of sand; a tiny piece of matter in the scheme of things. But knowing I'm not alone in all the breaking hearts of time doesn't make the pain less.
It does make me feel better to know you and Daren are together. Rainee said she dreamed the other night that you and he were sitting in a cafe drinking coffee. She saw you bent over the table with your hands around your cup and Daren sitting with his legs crossed drinking his. You both looked so happy; laughing and talking.
I will think of you both that way. I will embedd that picture into my mind.
You know how I hated it when one of our family was by themselves. At Christmas time, Thanksgiving, Easter, or whenever, it always bothered me if you or one of our children were spending it alone. It comforts me that you are not alone and that he is not alone. You have each other and that makes me feel better.
Now, I am writing letters to you and our son, knowing that as they go off into the universe, you will catch them, read them, and know how much you are loved and missed.
I love you Honey. I miss you so much.
Far Beyond the 12th of Never
Susie
Daren's Letter - February 4, 2013
Hi Honey:
I just replayed the slide show that we did at your memorial service. The house is quiet and the reality that you are gone has hit like a sledge hammer. You're gone.
No more hearing your voice say "Hi Mom" when I call you. No more hearing you say "I love you." For the last few days I have told myself, "Just pretend he's still in Alaska. Don't think about it. Just pretend." But I know that would not be healthy for me to keep doing. I can't hide in the fantasy my mind wants me to build no matter how much I would like to. But I don't know how I'm going to make it through this.
Do you realize how much joy you gave me. Do you realize how many times you made me laugh. Do you know that I know the fight you put up against your demons.
I was always so consumed in your conquering them, that I didn't ever tell you that I was proud that you were fighting them. I know of others that just give in and let addiction take control and not consider who they are hurting or not even care. You were never like that honey. You always cared. I know how much you loved your sons, me, your dad, your siblings.
Oh Honey. I know you are free from the pain. I know that somewhere in another dimension, you are looking back over your life and you are judging yourself. And I know you will be a harsh judge of yourself. I just pray you will look between the shadows and see all the light you created while here.
You are not in Alaska but you are somewhere. You are on a trip where there is no phone service or emails or texting, Federal Express or postal service. You are on a trip that the only way you can be reached is by my sending out my thoughts, love and voice into the universe. So I write this letter Honey. Because it is with the writing of it that my mind and heart is sending my message to my fingers and through the veil to where you are. Catch my love Honey. Catch my pride in you. Catch my memories. And my darling boy, if it be in your power wherever you are, send to me a bit of you. Send it in the sunshine, in the breeze, in a snowflake. Let me know you are close by me and I will make it through this.
I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. Catch my words. Catch my love.
Mom
I just replayed the slide show that we did at your memorial service. The house is quiet and the reality that you are gone has hit like a sledge hammer. You're gone.
No more hearing your voice say "Hi Mom" when I call you. No more hearing you say "I love you." For the last few days I have told myself, "Just pretend he's still in Alaska. Don't think about it. Just pretend." But I know that would not be healthy for me to keep doing. I can't hide in the fantasy my mind wants me to build no matter how much I would like to. But I don't know how I'm going to make it through this.
Do you realize how much joy you gave me. Do you realize how many times you made me laugh. Do you know that I know the fight you put up against your demons.
I was always so consumed in your conquering them, that I didn't ever tell you that I was proud that you were fighting them. I know of others that just give in and let addiction take control and not consider who they are hurting or not even care. You were never like that honey. You always cared. I know how much you loved your sons, me, your dad, your siblings.
Oh Honey. I know you are free from the pain. I know that somewhere in another dimension, you are looking back over your life and you are judging yourself. And I know you will be a harsh judge of yourself. I just pray you will look between the shadows and see all the light you created while here.
You are not in Alaska but you are somewhere. You are on a trip where there is no phone service or emails or texting, Federal Express or postal service. You are on a trip that the only way you can be reached is by my sending out my thoughts, love and voice into the universe. So I write this letter Honey. Because it is with the writing of it that my mind and heart is sending my message to my fingers and through the veil to where you are. Catch my love Honey. Catch my pride in you. Catch my memories. And my darling boy, if it be in your power wherever you are, send to me a bit of you. Send it in the sunshine, in the breeze, in a snowflake. Let me know you are close by me and I will make it through this.
I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. Catch my words. Catch my love.
Mom
Saturday, February 2, 2013
A Letter to Danny - February 2, 2013
Hello Honey:
Do you know how much I am missing you today?
We had our son's service yesterday. I'm certain you were both there for it. I'm certain you heard each of our children stand up and express how much Daren meant to each one of them. He's a special boy, that son of ours.
Honey, thank you for giving me our children. When we are all together, I tend to look at each one of them and soak in their being there. And each minute I watch them, I think to myself "How did I get to be their Mom?" I would think that being a Mom would mean you should be the wiser one. But I watch our children and listen to them and enjoy them and think "I am not their Mom because I deserve to be. They are a gift to me. A gift I didn't earn or buy or I'm not even sure, deserve. They are just a precious, beautiful bundle of gifts and I am so blessed to know they are mine...at least for a while.
God is kind of an Indian Giver. He gave me you and he gave me Daren and then he took you back. Don't worry honey. I'm not being sacreligious. God knows how much I love Him. He knows that I know there's a reason for everything He does. We talk a lot; He and I. Well, I do the talking and He does the listening. I will ask Him for something and then in time I will see that he answers my prayers. Some times it really isn't the manner I anticipated having them answered, but they are answered.
At the time when you were drinking way too much, I asked him to please make you so sick you wouldn't ever want a drink again. In my mind I was thinking: give him an ulcer, or have it make him so sick at his stomach he won't ever want to drink again. Well he made you sick enough that you never again took a drink of alcohol. You became depressed and would be for a long time. I would sit next to you and try to encourage you and try to find what would make you feel better. It would take years for Paxil to come on the scene and help you.
Then, I asked God to bless you and our sons. Working together in a family owned business created stress in yours and their relationship. I asked Him to please bless you that your relationships would be of dad and sons; not of boss and employees. God answered my prayers by shutting down the business.
I have learned that the old adage "Be careful what you ask for" is true. I told God one day as I was driving in my car that the next time I ask for something please make it as easy on me as possible. I know He was laughing at me. You see Honey. That's the relationship I have with Him. I talk to him as my friend and I know that He loves me and doesn't take offense at my human-ess. I know that if I ask for something He knows isn't right for me he will smile and say "Oh Yea. Like that's going to happen."
I am just so thankful He gave me you. I am so thankful he gave me our children. I will just hope the song from The Sound of Music is true; "Here I am standing here, loving you; rather or not I should. Somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must have done something good."
I love you my Darling. Give Daren a hug for me.
Far Beyond the 12th of Never.
Susie
Do you know how much I am missing you today?
We had our son's service yesterday. I'm certain you were both there for it. I'm certain you heard each of our children stand up and express how much Daren meant to each one of them. He's a special boy, that son of ours.
Honey, thank you for giving me our children. When we are all together, I tend to look at each one of them and soak in their being there. And each minute I watch them, I think to myself "How did I get to be their Mom?" I would think that being a Mom would mean you should be the wiser one. But I watch our children and listen to them and enjoy them and think "I am not their Mom because I deserve to be. They are a gift to me. A gift I didn't earn or buy or I'm not even sure, deserve. They are just a precious, beautiful bundle of gifts and I am so blessed to know they are mine...at least for a while.
God is kind of an Indian Giver. He gave me you and he gave me Daren and then he took you back. Don't worry honey. I'm not being sacreligious. God knows how much I love Him. He knows that I know there's a reason for everything He does. We talk a lot; He and I. Well, I do the talking and He does the listening. I will ask Him for something and then in time I will see that he answers my prayers. Some times it really isn't the manner I anticipated having them answered, but they are answered.
At the time when you were drinking way too much, I asked him to please make you so sick you wouldn't ever want a drink again. In my mind I was thinking: give him an ulcer, or have it make him so sick at his stomach he won't ever want to drink again. Well he made you sick enough that you never again took a drink of alcohol. You became depressed and would be for a long time. I would sit next to you and try to encourage you and try to find what would make you feel better. It would take years for Paxil to come on the scene and help you.
Then, I asked God to bless you and our sons. Working together in a family owned business created stress in yours and their relationship. I asked Him to please bless you that your relationships would be of dad and sons; not of boss and employees. God answered my prayers by shutting down the business.
I have learned that the old adage "Be careful what you ask for" is true. I told God one day as I was driving in my car that the next time I ask for something please make it as easy on me as possible. I know He was laughing at me. You see Honey. That's the relationship I have with Him. I talk to him as my friend and I know that He loves me and doesn't take offense at my human-ess. I know that if I ask for something He knows isn't right for me he will smile and say "Oh Yea. Like that's going to happen."
I am just so thankful He gave me you. I am so thankful he gave me our children. I will just hope the song from The Sound of Music is true; "Here I am standing here, loving you; rather or not I should. Somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must have done something good."
I love you my Darling. Give Daren a hug for me.
Far Beyond the 12th of Never.
Susie
Daren's Letter - February 2, 2013
Hi Dare:
You know how you and your siblings use to receive the "dreaded letters" from me. When ever you would do something that I didn't approve of, I would write you a letter and leave it on your pillow. Well Sweetheart, this isn't a dreaded letter. It's just one of many that will help your mother heal a little bit.
When your Dad died a year ago, you would tell me over and over and over "He's with you Mom. You just have to be open. You have to listen and take notice and not block him out." And I would tell you "I don't know how."
Well Sweetheart, you are not with me now and I still don't know how to listen and take notice and not block you out. You can't be subtle with me honey. You are going to need to do something pretty amazing for me to know you are with me. Honey, it's not that I don't believe. I really do. I think it's because my mind is just so noisy and I can't quiet it enough to hear your Dad or you.
I was thinking about the book we were going to write together. Remember, you called me a couple of weeks ago and told me you had come up with the name of it. You told me you wanted the title to be "SHUT UP. I'M TRYING TO HEAR MYSELF SPEAK." You were referring to your own mind never being quiet.
Our book was going to be about your struggle with addiction. You wanted to write it to help others not journey the same path you did. I can't write the book without you honey. I don't know half of what your demons put you through. So the idea will be put on a shelf. But my darling son, I do need your help....still. I have your two sons and twenty-three other grandchildren. Keep watch over them and if it be in your power, help them not journey the same road you traveled.
As you know my love, drugs are an epidemic in society today. It doesn't matter if one is young, old, rich, poor. They are being robbed of life by drugs. Your boy Christian said the other day "My dad saved my life and he saved the life of a lot of others." He was talking about how your addiction had made him realize and perhaps others that they should not take the same path. Please watch over the others that I love. Find someway to keep inspiring them to do those things that are right.
I love you my boy. (You are still and will always be my baby.)
Thank you for always being there for me. Thank you for making me laugh and cry and be alive because I was in your presence.
Give your dad a hug for me and tell him how much I love him.
Sweet Peace my Son
Mom
You know how you and your siblings use to receive the "dreaded letters" from me. When ever you would do something that I didn't approve of, I would write you a letter and leave it on your pillow. Well Sweetheart, this isn't a dreaded letter. It's just one of many that will help your mother heal a little bit.
When your Dad died a year ago, you would tell me over and over and over "He's with you Mom. You just have to be open. You have to listen and take notice and not block him out." And I would tell you "I don't know how."
Well Sweetheart, you are not with me now and I still don't know how to listen and take notice and not block you out. You can't be subtle with me honey. You are going to need to do something pretty amazing for me to know you are with me. Honey, it's not that I don't believe. I really do. I think it's because my mind is just so noisy and I can't quiet it enough to hear your Dad or you.
I was thinking about the book we were going to write together. Remember, you called me a couple of weeks ago and told me you had come up with the name of it. You told me you wanted the title to be "SHUT UP. I'M TRYING TO HEAR MYSELF SPEAK." You were referring to your own mind never being quiet.
Our book was going to be about your struggle with addiction. You wanted to write it to help others not journey the same path you did. I can't write the book without you honey. I don't know half of what your demons put you through. So the idea will be put on a shelf. But my darling son, I do need your help....still. I have your two sons and twenty-three other grandchildren. Keep watch over them and if it be in your power, help them not journey the same road you traveled.
As you know my love, drugs are an epidemic in society today. It doesn't matter if one is young, old, rich, poor. They are being robbed of life by drugs. Your boy Christian said the other day "My dad saved my life and he saved the life of a lot of others." He was talking about how your addiction had made him realize and perhaps others that they should not take the same path. Please watch over the others that I love. Find someway to keep inspiring them to do those things that are right.
I love you my boy. (You are still and will always be my baby.)
Thank you for always being there for me. Thank you for making me laugh and cry and be alive because I was in your presence.
Give your dad a hug for me and tell him how much I love him.
Sweet Peace my Son
Mom
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