Fun Fact: Walter "Radar" O'Reilly was the only character on M*A*S*H to write home to his mother. Hawkeye's dad was a widower. Henry and Frank got home movies and made phone calls to their wives. BJ wrote home to his wife, and daughter. Trapper didn't really write or call home much, did he? Maybe that's why Pernell Roberts was divorced on Trapper John, MD...
Dear Mom,
It's been a month since you've been gone. Four weeks. Thirty days. You know how terrible I am at Math. You once tried to show me subtraction with blocks. You set out ten blocks. You took five and put them behind you back. You asked how many blocks there were left. I said ten. Five on the table and the other five behind your back. So, you know that I can't begin to count to hours, minutes and seconds you've been gone.
Cathy and I were so shocked. Everything seemed fine. She called me home from work when you took a tumble in the bathroom. Every thing checked out alright.
You put on a fresh pot of coffee.
You sat down in your chair.
And then, you were gone.
We could see you in your chair from where we sit in the living room. It looked like you had just dozed off in front of the television. You'd done that before.
I don't know that there's a "good" way to handle grief. I called 9-1-1, frantic, in a panic.
I could barely talk to let Paula know you'd left us.
You know how much I enjoy Time Travel. Rod Taylor in the Classic, The Time Machine. Quantum Leap. Uncle Martin's time machine. Doctor Who. I see you with Dad again. Grandma Ruth and Grandma Sophie. Uncle Bob and Aunt Lois. Uncle Frank. Uncle Jim. Your Uncle Harold. Just a few of the many friends you and Dad made over the years, Bob and Margaret. You're telling Dad about our Adoption Journey. The ups, the downs.
So much has happened over the years. There's so much to catch him up on.
Squeaker is just one of the many great-grandchildren to tell Dad about. You really took to her. You were really looking forward to her talking and walking. I'll keep you posted on her progress. I'll keep my promise to you that we'll have a gate across of the stairs to keep her safe.
I hope you tell Dad that I tried my best to keep my promise to him. When I held his hand for the last time, I promised him that we would take care of each other. It was okay. If he was tired. If he wanted to rest. It was okay. He'd fought the good fight. We love him and we were proud of his courage.
You're telling him that we miss him, still, I know. Just as much as we're going to miss you.
But The Promise is that we will all be together again.
Thank you for telling me every day that you're glad I'm your son. I'm glad, too.
Thank you for making me the Dad I am today.
I miss you so much.
I love you,
Dave
