Garrett,
I can’t turn my mind to any memories that I have of you. I just can’t. It’s overwhelmingly hard to try to recall a full memory. What I do have are tiny, little, snippets of memories. They flash across my mind and then they’re gone. Just enough to see you and then they disappear.
It’s too much. Too painful.
Dear Garrett, I don’t like the last letter I wrote. I find that I don’t like to say negative or hurtful things about you. I don’t want people to see you in just one way. I’m unhappy about that last letter because it showed you in a poor light. I want to say, wait,…
Garrett, One the places where you felt at home was at Sheila’s ranch. If we could have moved you there, we would have. You loved horses. From an early age you wanted to learn how to ride. I sought out different camps for you and one day, I came across the website for Sheila’s…
Dear Garrett, I can’t bring myself to look at any photos of you yet. I just can’t. You were a love of my life, but I can’t look at any of your pictures. Because you were alive when we took those pictures. And we were connected. And there was life when every picture was…
Hi, Garrett, I didn’t keep many of your things. I remember Kevin saying that you didn’t really have many things, and it was sad how little you had, but I thought differently. What had been important to you changed over time, and you got rid of the things that weren’t important to you anymore….
Hi, Garrett, It’s Genevieve’s birthday today. The first birthday you aren’t here for. Mine doesn’t count, and Kevin’s doesn’t either. But Genevieve’s birthday does. Maybe because you are both my children. And she is getting older, and you are not. You will never be older than you were when you died. You will not grow…
Garrett, This house, that I really wanted you to have. This house, where I thought we would have the chance to remake ourselves. This house, that you never moved into. I really wanted you to be here, where we could figure out what was going to happen, after. After you went to rehab. After…
