Letter 56 – Peace?

Dear Garrett,

This house is quiet since you’ve been gone. Peaceful, in a way. What did we gain with your absence? Peace? The ability to have friends over and enjoy an evening of socializing? No need to cancel a playdate for Genevieve when things felt too uncertain? Quiet?

What did we lose with your absence? Your joy. Your laughter. Your life. I know it’s not fair to describe your death as a trade-off. That isn’t what happened. But when I feel caustic, I sometimes make these associations. Would I make this trade if I had had the choice? Never. Oh course. Never.

I think that you craved peace, too. Within yourself. Is that one of the reasons why you took drugs and then kept on taking drugs? I wish I could go back in time with what I know now and say, not like this. There is no cure in what you’re doing. This will become a monster riding you to the end of your life. Stop.

That won’t happen. I know. But I see your story more clearly now. Not in its entirety. I probably won’t ever, but I see things a little bit more clearly. Does it help? Yes, and no. Yes, in that my sense of responsibility has moved, glacially, and yes, because the jagged edges of these stones are a little bit more softened, and no, because I still wish with all my heart that you were with us. I would make a trade for your life with nothing. Never.

I want to reach in and grab hold of you and never let you go.