An open letter to Kevin, five years on

Dear Kevin,

I remember thinking on the first anniversary of your death that five years seemed impossibly long. That when you'd been gone for five years I might be dead too. That I could not bear the thought of five years without you.

All of that was true.
All of that wasn't true.

Loss and grief are like that. They change everything. The fundamentals of my world are not the same as they were before you died, before you were diagnosed, and yet I am still here.

There are so many things I could say but I don't know how. It's funny, writing about losing you was my driving reason to write for so long and today I don't know what to say. I miss you. I love you. I am so glad we had each other and in some ways still do. What else is there to say?

Now, five years on, I am finally starting to feel the joy and love of being each others start to outweigh the pain of losing you. Part of me is ashamed that it's taken this long, but so it is. I still have flashbacks and sometimes they are very bad, I still wonder if I did enough for you, I still am afraid I wasn't enough, that my memories of us are an illusion, but I can now draw up the sweet memories more easily and remember that yes, we were that good. I was that lucky. You would say blessed. Yes.

The hospital chaplain (you remember him, the white guy with reddish hair and the sweet face, the really smart guy, the one you kind of liked as much as you liked anyone in the hospital) was very kind to me in those days. I wish I could remember his name. I said to him several times that I didn't know how I could live without you, that I felt like I would die too, and he responded gently, each time, that I might. I didn't understand it then. I am starting to, finally.

Who I am now is at once much the same and so very different. I am still thinking about how to describe those changes (that alone is a difference, I am slower to speak. You might be relieved.) and this is not the time or place to list them, but I hope you are proud of me. I hope you would love the me I am now. I think you would. In some ways I've become the person you wanted me to be, the person you knew was there and I doubted. I wish it hadn't taken losing you to finally get here. Maybe I would have anyway. I hope so. I hope you know.

I hope you know how absolutely amazing your kids are. They reflect your light into the world and add to it with their own.

Thank you, beloved, my heart, for everything. For loving me, for loving all of us so very well.

Today I will take a walk and do my best to feel your hand in mine. Today like so many days I will miss you. Today I will remember that love endures, that it is infinite, that we are still each others. Today I will look at the waters and see you in them, in the air, in the sky. I will celebrate your continuation in the stars, the waves, the universe. Today I love you still and I always will.

Yours always,
Laura


Thanks to James for the amazing video.
----------------------------------
patreon.com/laurapacker
www.laurapacker.com
www.thinkstory.com
(c)2019 Laura S. Packer