“I walked out this morning and I
wrote down this song
I just can't remember who to send it to…” – James Taylor
I just can't remember who to send it to…” – James Taylor
Dear Jack,
I know it seems strange I am
writing you a letter but there is just too much to say staring at your ashes.
It struck me the other day, like an anvil across the temple, that I will be 49
in February and for the first time you will not be older than me. I never
really thought much about it as the 2 ½ years have moved through the cosmos
since your death but now as I get older…you do not.
I still see things that make me
want to call you. An obscure science fiction reference, a bar or just a
childhood memory brings you into full view and you are not there. In some ways
I am still mad at you for leaving me. I always knew Dad wouldn’t be here
forever but I thought you and I would see it through until our natural ends. A
couple old farts laughing at our own in jokes. Using our own “twin speak” to
communicate, as we always had. With you and Dad gone…who else knew me as well?
The three of us and banging around South Jersey or up to Philly to see
family…we had our own way. Remember when Dad’s Volkswagen square back was our
shuttle craft? Of course you do! And you always sat in the front seat or as my
kids call it, “shotgun.” I think about us playing Star Trek or Planet of the
Apes on the beach. Especially in the winter with the stark barren landscape it
made for wonderful alien planets. I got out our Christmas stuff yesterday and
found your stocking. The one Mom made you. She made us both stockings but I
can’t find mine. Yours floated to the surface and smacked me in the face. Your
memory is inescapable. Isn’t that what we all want? I know Dad’s biggest fear
was that no one would remember him. What was yours?
I thought you might get married
and have kids. Don’t laugh! It was possible. Anything would have been possible
for you if you wanted to do it. Of this I am sure. I am also mad because you
didn’t have kids. I feel cheated out of a niece or nephew that would have had
your eyes or smile or humor. I have wonderful surrogate ones that I love like
my own but you still cheated me out of your kids. Now I sound angry and if you
were reading this you would start to get pissed. Sorry. But it’s how I feel. You
thought I squandered my degree from Temple by working as a waitress or mall rat
or any number of jobs. I think you squandered the life you had left. And I’m
mad about it. Get over it.
I play the ukulele now. I started
on that Martin that was abandoned in the garage in Margate. Yeah, yeah, I’m
sure it was yours once. I know you would get a kick out of it. Me playing and
posting videos on YouTube. I wonder what nick-name you would give me. I could
think of one but I know you would be much cleverer about it. I think about how
we could be playing and singing together and, I’m sure, laughing about it. I have
been working on “Wish You Were Here.” That was our song that we would sing
together every time you brought out your guitar. It takes on new meaning to me
now. Oh, how I wish you were here. I make these crazy memes and post them on
Facebook. I think about how some of them no one gets but me and maybe you. It’s
hard to lose someone like that. Someone that gets you.
I met Elena. She was pretty cool.
She wasn’t what I imagined, not your usual type but I liked her. I think about
how you could have brought her around to a family function or I could have met
you both for a drink and that we would have gotten along great. I think the
family would have loved her. I think we could have been friends. She had a kind
open face and I wept when she handed me your ashes. I asked if she had a minute
and she just sat there as I sobbed over missing you so much. I told her a few
stories of our family and how even though you didn’t want me to have the ashes…I
would have talked you into it or you would have yielded.
You would love little bill’s
YouTube adventures. He is so funny! He makes up songs, scenes and wanted a
laptop to video edit. I wish you were here to ask about it. Trinity wanted a
laptop to play games. I wish you were here to ask about it.
I miss you and I always will and
no matter what happened towards the end that made you hate me…I wish you didn’t.
I wish you would not have had me banned from the hospital. I would have come if
I was in better health and just busted in there. I would have forgiven you and
you would not have to forgive me for anything. The forgiving is mine to do. I
don’t forgive you for leaving me and how you exited…too young. I looked at a
picture from Grandma and Grandpa’s 50th anniversary at camp. You,
me, Roger, Mom, Grandma and Grandpa. Me and Mom are the only ones left.
Sobering, I know. Same with my wedding pictures. Me and Bill with his Dad and
his three Aunts, Mom, Dad and Roger. Me, Bill and Mom remain. Such is the life
of getting older I suppose. But I feel awfully young to have so much loss.
I know you hate when people feel
sorry for themselves and I don’t really. At least I don’t try to dwell on it…it’s
just the way it is sometimes. The kids want to have some kind of service for
you in Vernon Center. They feel you need to be with Grandpa, Grandma and Roger
and I agree. We need closure. I hardly heard from anyone when you died except
for the Kirk side of the family. Complete silence from other camps but I don’t
care. Everyone thought I was mad at you and I was and I suppose I said some
mean things about you too. For that, I am sorry. I was hurt and so were you by
all that happened and in the end only you and I know exactly what went down
when Dad moved to Virginia. Maybe now that I have your ashes and we can plan
something…the healing can begin. For me, Mom, Elena, the kids, family, friends…and
all those you left behind.
You don’t have to worry about no
one remembering you. I always will. I will think of you when I go see Star Wars
next month. I will think of you when I see James Bond next week. I will reminisce
about us riding our bikes up to Margate Twin to see Planet of the Apes or the
Pink Panther movies and wonder if we would still get the biggest size of
popcorn they had…and share it.
Love your sis,
Sally
xoxo
