Letter 35 – Visit With My Parents

 

Garrett, 

I went to see my parents in the early summer after you died. I went alone. I knew my family was coming, my brother and my sister and maybe some of their family members. I didn’t know what it was going to be like, and I didn’t want Genevieve to be surrounded by grieving adults and maybe hearing things that wouldn’t be good for her to hear. So, I went alone, and Kevin stayed behind with Genevieve.

I also wanted to be by myself to face the memories that I knew would be coming in going to see my parents. Their house was one of your favorite places. You were accepted there and surrounded with love and affection. I have so many memories of you associated with my parent’s house that I didn’t know what it would be like to be there without you.  

The airport was really difficult. A memory of you walking hand in hand with my mom when you were two, arriving at our new little town where you would live for the rest of your life. I am traveling with ghosts today, I said to myself. You were with me every step of the way. Sitting in the seat next to me. Holding my hand on take-off, as we always did, even when you were a teenager. You liked family rituals, and you never let them go, even when you grew up and might have decided that you were too old. You never did. You always held my hand, and your dad’s hand. Every time. 

Being at my parent’s house felt weird. A surreal social visit. Ghost memories kept overlapping whatever was happening in real time and I thought about you constantly. When my brother came, he cried with me. It was the first time I’d seen him since it happened and there were no barriers between us when we met. I thank you for that, my brother. I was glad to sit with you in my grief and accept your sorrow over what had happened.

And the same for my sister, when she came. Thank you for sharing your hearts with me in that moment. I needed you. I haven’t been great at keeping in contact this year, but I know you are there if I need you. As you always have been.  |

During that visit, my sister talked about a vacation she had recently taken, where you have a cabana directly over the water. It had been on her bucket list, she said. We were sitting with my dad out on the deck and he asked me, what’s on your bucket list, sweetheart? I knew he only had the best intention in mind, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t respond with anything but the raw truth.

My bucket list exploded when Garrett died, I said. And I don’t have one anymore. Well. It wasn’t a great answer to give to your dad, but it was the only thing I had at the time. Or I might have said, my bucket list is to have my dead son come back to life because I can’t stand that I am sitting here without him and haven’t found a way to manage it. It wasn’t a perfect moment, and I’m sorry about that. But I missed you.