Dear Alex

Three Years Gone

It’s 1:15 am on December 6, 2022.

It was about this time that you probably took your last breath exactly three years ago.

You’ve been gone for three years.

Where do we go with this? What are we supposed to do?

Not a day goes by that I don’t think of you. And there are reminders of you in my home.

You in your urn and locks from that crazy head of hair you had are always on my dresser.

I took a few pink granite rocks from the area where you last laid your head. You may have touched them even. I made a little memorial with them with a pine cone from the same place on top. There you reside among my cacti and succulents. Things that seem to live forever.

The night skies have been especially beautiful this year and full of wonder. The stars have been brighter than ever, and the moons have been nothing short of spectacular. Have you been fooling around with Mother Nature up there? I bet you made her laugh!

You were so good with people, making them feel better, making them laugh. Was it too much of a burden to feel the way you felt inside at the same time? Did we ask or expect too much of you?

I had to laugh when I looked up what people do for third anniversaries. It seems the consensus is leather.

“Rich and rugged, leather is both durable and protective, like a fortified hide that no longer succumbs to weakness.”

I hope you are hovering over us with that same protection, as we would you.

I wonder what you did today. I wrote a story — about airlines, of course. I’d write one about your love of roller coasters, but my experience with them is limited. I couldn’t have done what you did!

I took care of a bunch of personal business and continued to clear email. It all seemed so meaningless until I laid my eyes on your folder, simply named “Alex.” The contents began to upset me, so I didn’t linger.

There are physical reminders of you everywhere, but I’ll never forget you in my heart.

Love, Dad