A Letter to Meghan | September 2023

I remember my family telling me “No, let’s recreate this next time!” when I asked to take this picture.

I felt this pull towards recreating it right then and there. It felt like there was no time like the present. I now look back on not only this picture but every picture with you as some of the closest, most tangible moments that I will forever cherish.

Pictures in frames that you’d normally replace with more recent ones.

I had a moment the other night, staring at an old picture of us that you gave to me for a birthday, thinking about replacing it with a new picture. It’s funny. Sometimes still I forget that all I have is what is in front of me. What is within me.

Early on when I was dealing with your death, I was obviously confused. That confusion turned into anger, and that anger stayed for a while. But then I read something one day from someone dealing with Loss and Grief saying “I hope this message is confusing to you, that means you’ve never had to experience deep loss and debilitating grief.” That was when I realized that I was angry because I felt alone. I felt hopeless and I felt cheated… by life. The thing that created me was slowly destroying me. Alas, in the end, it destroys us all – does it not? But that’s a whole nother post.

I remember at the beginning I would torment myself with the idea of forgetting you. What if I forget your laugh. Your annoying, wonderful laugh, and that gasp for air you would do when you were going for too long, as a tear rolls down the side of your face. (You had broken tear ducts just like me and Kait). Or your style. I would always steal your clothes and then stuff them in the deepest, darkest drawer in my dresser – I’d never figure out how you’d always find them.  Or how you would always call to catch up with me at the busiest times of the day. (I am sorry for not answering). Or how you loved to talk about boys and dates and falling in love. And how much you loved me. And when me, Kaitlyn and you got married we would have to come to some sort of deal to figure out who was being whose maid of honor.

You always wanted things to be both fair and planned.

You liked to be happy almost as much as you liked others to be happy.

The last time I spoke to you, it was one of those glass of wine in hand, long FaceTime date conversations. You were trying on different black dresses for a date. This guy couldn’t have sounded more nominal to me, but you seemed excited. We got to laughing about our shared trauma as you tried on what felt like the fifth black dress of the night. I wondered if you truly saw a difference in these looks but deferred always to your better judgement, since you were the one that was going to have to pull it off (which you always did). How lucky we were to have the other.

I can remember you telling me how excited you were for us to start getting married and have a family. Neither of us were close, but it was always fun to imagine. You were in charge of finding prospects. I was in charge of determining if your prospects were actually going to last.

You would have been a great mom.

Anyways, I guess this post is nothing more than to say – Love what is right in front of you. Love it so hard you feel like a gosh-darn fool for caring so much about something. Because one day that thing that loves you (& you love) may be gone. It may be gone forever, it may be gone for a little – either way, you’re going to have to live with it.

Life goes on. It doesn’t feel like it should, but it does. That is, until it doesn’t. Then, well… we don’t know what happens. But I’d like to think it’s something beautiful, light and peaceful.

It still doesn’t feel good to think about what happened to you. It hurts a lot actually. But I am trying to be strong and remember – no matter how much it hurts. Because I love you and because I know you’re worth every joy-filled emotion I have in heart and NONE of the sad.

Fuck the sad.

I pray I can rest in a place with you where all I feel is joy. I hope that writing this is a step in that direction.

I also want to say that if you are reading this and resonate with anything that I have said… I am sorry.

It took me a year and a half to put any words together and make meaning of all this. Clearly, I am still working through it. But my desire is to honor her. It hurts to remember now, but maybe it won’t one day. Instead of looking away – today I look within.

I love you.