Too Much Thinking

Dear Brian,

Maybe some who read this are getting tired of my letters to you.  But I don't care, it helps me.

One thing I haven't acknowledged is what I noticed in the backyard - there's a cigarette burn on the bench, and I wonder did you sit there contemplating? Were you scared? Or just ready to have it done?  I can't imagine any of your thoughts.  I suspect you sat there, set down your cigarette, and then ... what?  I know you left Sadie in the house, which means this was planned.  And knowing that hurts me a lot.  I wish you had talked to me, but it seems you were so far down in some kind of hole and didn't see any way out.  But as you said, I'm strong. I would have found a way to help however I could.

When I'm not thinking these things, I think about the times when you .... went along with me whenever I got a wild hair to go out hiking or something.  Loved to travel out to Superstition, or Hole in the Rock, and go wandering in the desert for a hike of some sort.  You were always prepared, carrying your "survival bag" in case something happened, including headache medicine, bandaids, elastic bandages in case of a sprain.... You always seemed to have the right stuff with you.  You were a good sport to go along with your ol' mom so she didn't have to hike alone.  Thank you for that.  I'm not sure I thanked you enough for that.

The same with my car:  you always tucked away a roll of duct tape, a small arsenal of handy tools ... just in case we got stuck somewhere.  Now that you're not here ... well, the items are still in the trunk, along with a change of clothes as well.  Yeah, now that I'm older, you just never know ....

The day never passes whenever I think about your choice and feel the need to mutter to myself "Brian, Brian, Brian ..."  For some reason it always needs to be said three times.  I can't explain it even to myself, but just accept that's how it needs to be.

I am in the process of posting all your high school English class writings that you wrote about yourself.  I'm also tucking them into sheet protectors and storing them in a binder that zippers shut.  That way folks can read them whenever they're ready.  I sure am pleased that I have that little bit of you to remember all the good times, to read about your view point of the world.  Your sense of humor shines through to me in your words. 

All this thinking that my brain does, I suppose they say it's good for me to be thinking and writing whatever I can about it.  Pondering over whatever helps put things in perspective.  It's not always easy, but it's getting easier to remember the good parts of you.  And there were many of them!

I'll always love you, son
Love, Mom