You left me- you didn’t come home. You died at 33 years old. You left me here to raise Audrey by myself.
I planned your funeral. I tried to do everything I remember us talking about- I had a bagpipe player because I remember you mentioning that. I kept it as celebratory as I could because I know you said you didn’t want a bunch of people sitting around being sad. I told your closer friends to go out afterwards to a soccer pub and have a beer and raise a glass to you like you asked.
I don’t know what to do with your cello- Audrey pointed at it at today and said “cello” for the first time.
“che llo” “appa!” Maybe one day she can learn how to play.
At lunch I saw her start making this noise and playing with her fingers and then she said “Appa. Plane” She was remembering how you let her push down each of your fingers on the plane for fun back in May, and how you made a funny sound until your hand was a fist and then you sprung it open at her. Occupied her better than all the toys I brought for the plane ride. You joked that people around us were probably getting annoyed by the cartoony sound you were making each time she closed one of your fingers to your palm. She remembers so well. I keep telling her to remember.
I’m sure you’re busy in your new reality- but I just wanted to say hello and give you the update on things over here in mine.
I still can’t believe all of this is about you- my Daniel. I can’t believe I don’t get to discuss it with you or ask you what happened. I can’t believe at a time like this you are not here to support me, or hold me, or tell me it will be OK. I look for signs- hawks, dreams of butterflies like the one I saw flying right over your casket at the closing prayer, hot whispers in my ear while I’m sleeping- I am going to keep looking- I pray that God is gracious with me and gives me a few more.
I am glad you don’t have to worry anymore- about bills or money- or any of that stuff. I’m glad you’re in a place of justice because that was so foundational to your being. No more injustice for you huh? Must be so great.
I feel a little like you’re taking care of me still- a lot of your friends are reaching out to me- friends I wasn’t close to. I feel like you’re making sure I’m not totally alone. Thank you for that. You still have…all my love.
I saw a butterfly flying around my mom's casket as it was being carried out of the church. I believe I'm the only one who saw it; my dad and sister somehow missed it. It brought me great comfort.