Letter on a Train

Jessy Here. Riding the train home to Chicago just a few days ago I wrote this... Haven't had much to say in a while, but its very important to me that we keep Doug's memory alive with this blog... So again I share a little letter to our Douglas with all of you.

I read a book today. Listened to it actually. Bought the book on iTunes. Saw it at Target and thought innocently that it would be a good read. Little did I know that when I got to the end I would be caught of guard, in public, balling my eyes out.

The last few months have been easy. Life is good. My love for you has brought me closer to those who also loved you. Closer to an old dear friend of ours who loves me and treats me as you said I always deserved.
You were right.
I made the move to Chicago, to study art history like you told me I should.
Truly, I am happy.

I think of you often. But the tears are fewer and farther between.

As I listened to the author of the book tell her story of how she found out that her sister was dead… How the images of it are so clearly in her mind. Makes me think of something my dad said once. That everyone from his generation remembers what they were doing when JFK was killed. How now people our age will remember where they were on 9/11. And how I know I will never forget where I was when I heard you were gone. The author spoke at the memorial. And it made me remember sitting in the back of Tony’s car reading what I wrote to he and Angela and how I hoped that it was good enough. How my chest was heavy and my breath so distant from my lungs when I stood before your family and friends. How even though he could hardly explain your dad was thankful I shared the love and good things I knew about you with everyone. The words of the last chapters of this book took me to a place I haven’t been in quite some time. I guess a place I haven’t been in nearly 7 months. Although now, I am sad, I’m glad to think of you today. Glad to not forget how much I miss you.


I guess it’s finally hit me what forever really means.