Letter 68 – Buried in My Bones
Dear Garrett,
The days immediately following the day of your death are not any that I want to speak of. They are days I have no wish to remember, and those days are buried in my bones.
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Letter 62 – Hurry But Don’t Rush
Garrett, The date of your death is coming up soon, and I haven’t yet talked about what happened. I know I need to. I need to pull it out and lay it down and go over it as I understand it. But I find I can’t do that until I’ve first looked at other…
Letter 50 – Past, Present and Future
Garrett, It’s getting to be close to a year since you died. It’s hard to accept that. That soon it will have been a year since I last saw you. I still don’t want to believe it’s true, although most of me has accepted it. There is still a part of me that shouts out,…
Letter 65 – I Failed
Garrett, When you died, I was obliterated. I ask myself, Why couldn’t I have done the one thing a mother is supposed to do? Why couldn’t I protect my child? Moms are supposed to always be there. They are supposed to give their children everything they need. Love, patience, understanding, guidance. My love was…
Introduction
These are the letters that I wrote after my son died. He died from a drug overdose. He was seventeen. The letters are in no order and follow no linear timeline. They are just my thoughts as I had them while confronting my grief over the death of my child. I didn’t start writing…
Letter 4 – Deep-Seated Belief
Dear Garrett, The question I always circle back around to, that I can’t get over, that I can’t think my way through, is how could I not have prevented your death? How could I not have prevented it? As a mother, I only have one job – to prevent my children from coming to…
Letter 29 – The Cooking One
Garrett, When you died, I stopped cooking. I didn’t plan to. I just stopped and haven’t yet started up again. I don’t even know what we ate when it first happened. Wendy’s. A lot of Wendy’s. Cans of things. Ramen. I couldn’t bring myself to cook. Maybe at first it was the shock of…
