Dear William,

I’m sorry it has taken me so long to write. I have been drafting letters to you in my head with the intentions of getting them on paper but then, another day goes by…541 days to be exact. That’s a really long time not to see your freckled face, or smell your hair, or hear your raspy voice that I long for. Your laugh, your smile, even your attitude and sass… I miss all of it. So many things have happened since you left that it feels insurmountable to catch you up all at once. So, I’ve decided to write letters to you as the thoughts, events and memories come. It won’t be in chronological order, you know….I stay on track like a pinball machine. As the stories arise, I will recount them for you.

Today, I made a commitment to myself to sit down and write for 10 minutes. I even told JC and Leah so that I would be accountable. I turned on my computer and I’m locked out of it. The error was too many failed sign-in attempts. There’s some irony! I am starting out the old fashioned way…pen and paper.

We just moved for the second time without you. Both times have been especially hard. I feel like I lose little pieces of you every time. One of the men who came to help took it upon himself to pack the garage without instruction. He opened a tote with your name on it, emptied it out and used it to pack random items lying around. He is lucky to be alive! Everytime your belongings go into a box, they get farther removed and out of reach. Your backpack is on a very high shelf in the garage. I saw it up there earlier this week and I started to cry.

That happens a lot, I feel a little off all of the time and I can’t quite figure out why and then suddenly, the air is ripped from my lungs and I realize it’s because you’re gone. Each place we move to has to has no memories of you. I have pictures and stuffed animals , ashes on my night stand, your Poison T-shirt, but it’s not the same. Nothing will ever be the same. I look for the gratitude always. Sometimes it’s after a long pity party and purge cry, but I always return to gratitude. Grateful that we got almost 18 years together. Grateful you chose me to be your mom. Grateful that you wanted me to have pig. Grateful that you left the way you did, the way I begged God to let it be…. just you and me. That I got to hold you as your spirit slipped out of the sick physical body that held you hostage for all those years.

I am grateful for all of the conversations you were brave enough to have. I am grateful that we chose signs that you would send me from beyond this plane. I am grateful for all of the many losses and pain I experienced in my life prior to your departure. I learned that it’s okay to laugh and cry at the same time, that it’s okay to be angry at God…he can handle it. That crying is good for you. That you really never went anywhere. Mostly I am grateful that I was forced to grieve out loud in front of all of you during the pandemic when we were forced to stay home together. I had no choice but to let all three of you witness my heartbreak and loss, which turned out to be one of the best teaching by example experiences of my life. All three you got to see that pain doesn’t last forever, and even though it feels like it might kill you… it won’t. That life can be beautiful and full of wonder and love, woven in with all of the broken pieces like the most extraordinary work of art.

You are bigger than the sun and everywhere at once. I hope all of the things I told you about your body dying were true. That you had spirits waiting for you. I wish you could tell me who came to get you. I wish I knew how it felt to become untethered from your body and transformed into frequency.

Thank you for all that you taught and continue to teach me. Thank you for allowing me to repay my karmic debt to you and for having the courage to pay off yours. Thank you for the example you showed of strength, resilience, and sheer determination to fight for every second until the clock ran out. I knew you weren’t ready. But I saw the look on your face earlier that evening after you showered that you had surrendered. I have a live photo of that moment. it was the same look you gave when you were finally ready to stop digging in your heels whenever we had a head to head standoff and you decided to stop being defiant and let go of resistance. I have replayed it so many times. I can see in hindsight now, that you knew it was time to let go. Thank you for fighting and thank you for the tender mercy of your surrender. It was an honor to be your guardian, teacher and student.

I love you forever,
Mama