November 18th
Dear Mom,
Meg asked me for Dad's number today. I'm a little concerned as to why she might need it. I made her promise it wasn't some weird “Make sure Bo's okay” thing.
She laughed and told me I was too self-obsessed.
She's not wrong. But I feel like even my attempts to be less self-obsessed are a form of self-obsession, and so I'm given up completely on the whole thing.
Instead I'm trying to focus on people around me a little more.
For instance, today I went back to Thorncrown Chapel.
There was another wedding happening, which makes sense. It's a lovely destination. I had assumed there would be another wedding, so I brought a gift. It was a marble cheese board I found in one of the little shops in town.
I really do think every couple needs a cheese board. How else are you supposed to make a charcuterie and cheese board. It's in the name, really.
So I went to several of the local stores and got seasoned meats and cheeses. Nothing that would go bad within a few hours, and packaged it all together.
They loved it.
I loved the fact I could crash a wedding without anyone realizing that I was a crasher, and giving the bride and groom something they would enjoy made my day.
I could stay here, I think. The people are friendly, the weather is beautiful and crisp, fall days slowly turning to winter.
The trees are changing colors and I know I'm going to be cold if I do stay.
Besides, my heart has found many places to rest during this journey, but nowhere to live just yet.
Althea has been probing a bit more about my relationship with you, trying to help me to realize something important, no doubt.
The problem is, there are so many things in our relationship I've become uncertain of. Everyone romanticizes death till it loses all meaning. They speak about the dead as if they had no faults. They seem to think that talking about people who have died honestly is disrespectful.
I don't think you want me out here pretending you were perfect. We had our share of screaming matches and you knew all the things we didn't agree on.
To ignore those just because you're dead makes no sense to me, and I've kept it all out of these letters because you already know. Writing it down won't make me miss you less.
But here's the thing, I feel like I've been dishonest in my grief because I've mostly focused on the things I loved and admired about you.
You were a little controlling, thinking if I didn't do things and live life your way, then I wasn't doing it right.
You had a mad temper. Sometimes I had no idea where the anger came from, it was just there. You were never abusive, but there were moments when I hid behind a book or pillow while you cooled down.
You were really hard on yourself. I can remember so many times I walked into the house and found you crying on the stairs because you'd messed up again.
Mostly I remember things like when I was seven or eight and you lost your job. You were so scared you wouldn't be able to take care of me, but I never doubted you. I could feel the paralyzing fear going through you and I remember wrapping my arms around your waist and crying with you because even though I knew you would always take care of me, your fear made me afraid.
You were so strong. Better than human, larger than life.
But I can't pretend you were perfect in any way. If anything, that would be disrespectful. Your flaws didn't mean you were less than. They just meant you were you.
Also, I may have bought a bottle of wine to go with the charcuterie things, and the people at the wedding were tee-totallers. So I've ended up drinking two glasses, and I'm a lightweight.
I know that self destructive behavior shows signs of much bigger problems, so I just want you to know that I'm not drunk. Just a little buzzed and sad.
I wish you were here so I could yell at you to make sure and get your doctor check ups every year. So you could argue with me, and we could have a good old fashioned fight about women's health. I wish you were here to yell at me for all the places I've gone alone even though I know the statistics and that things happen to women far more often than they should.
I wish you'd gone to the doctor after the first few headaches instead of waiting. I wish you'd listened when Dad thought there might be something more serious wrong even though none of us actually believed it. You were so incredibly stubborn, and it was one of the best things about you because look at the life you created for us. But it was also one of the worst things about you because look at the life we might have had if you'd stopped being so bullheaded and gotten a CT scan.
I am still so angry at you and so lost without you. So wishing for one last chance to fix all things we broke over the last year.
We have had some stupid fights in our time, and I would take the stupidest one over the dead silence between my sobs.
I love you still,
Bo
