A Letter

My dear husband,

I never found the key to open the back pasture.

I looked everywhere.

Your pants pockets.

Your coat pockets. You sure have a lot of coats.

I even looked in the pockets of that yellow rain slicker that makes you look like the Gortons Fisherman.

I looked on the ground near the gate in case it had fallen over there in the Fall.

Before it snowed.

The snow that killed you.

No luck.

It’s as if it just vanished.

How can a key just vanish?

Well, you just vanished.

If that’s possible, anything is capable of being lost.

Two different people sent me popcorn poppers.

I’ve made popcorn in both and guess what?

It’s just not the same.

The flavors aren’t there that were always in my bowl after you made it for me.

I guess you added a different dash of something to your batches.


I bet it was love.

I’ve already gone through some phases of grief since you left.

I will randomly cry…driving to the grocery store, watching the news in the morning, sitting in our bed where I last saw you.

The girls do the same.

But, we try to live with joy as much as possible.

We know you wouldn’t want us to cry over you.


At you?

I’m not mad at you at all

I get angry at the situation.

I don’t want to kick hugely overweight guys in the face anymore when I see them out and about. Walking and laughing while you, the epitome of health, sit in an urn in our hallway.

Zoe tells me it’s inappropriate to drop kick strangers in the face.

I’m overwhelmed at all that’s been put on my shoulders now.

But, I know no one is as mad about what’s happened more than you.

Angry that your body let you down.

Angry that you are missing things…concerts, competitions, vacations.

Anger that doesn’t bring you back to us.

So, we’ll get through it.

We will make new memories that don’t include you.

Not your physical body anyway.

But, your heart is always with us.

With every beat on the drum that Z does in band.

With every tap of her tap shoe.

With every bounce on a trampoline that G makes.

With every note that she sings in choir.

With each breath we take,

each laugh that breaks through the tears,

with every mile we put on the car to live life without you…you are with us.

Always with us…


your wife

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