Goodbye Rob
Dear Rob,
If you were anybody besides yourself, I might be worried. I'm glad you got the chance to experience sobriety and having a child. I know you know what you meant to me, I never hid it. Thank you for allowing me to be a part of your life and sharing your secrets with me. Remember the strawberry quick pop tarts I sent you when you were traveling? Those will always make me think of you. I don't think our children can marry now because they probably will never meet. I hope you enjoy summerland, but don't be a stranger. My life is better for having known you. I will send Reiki to your son.
All my love,
Melissa
PS. Incidently, here is the last thing Rob wrote to me, last night, the night he died...
Mar. 23rd, 2007 10:28 pm (local)
"My dad's 30 years older than me. I remember being maybe 20 and asking him what his favorite age was, and he thought for a minute and said 37, because we kids were such-and-such ages and yadda yadda. So I remembered that, and used 37 as a sort of yardstick. It came & went, and my life then (5 years ago) sucked ass. I thought, "The best better be yet to come." What I've come to realize since then (with the help of my 92 year-old grandmother) is that the best is today, because as many rainbows as we've definitely experienced in the past, we've got all those (experiences) in our pocket, maybe even today's rainbow, and tomorrow we might be dead. Which, arguably, might be the biggest & brightest rainbow of all, but Grammy suddenly lapsed into naptime before we got that far."
Let us know, Rob, if death is in fact the biggest and brightest rainbow. It was sure cloudy and foggy here on earth today.
If you were anybody besides yourself, I might be worried. I'm glad you got the chance to experience sobriety and having a child. I know you know what you meant to me, I never hid it. Thank you for allowing me to be a part of your life and sharing your secrets with me. Remember the strawberry quick pop tarts I sent you when you were traveling? Those will always make me think of you. I don't think our children can marry now because they probably will never meet. I hope you enjoy summerland, but don't be a stranger. My life is better for having known you. I will send Reiki to your son.
All my love,
Melissa
PS. Incidently, here is the last thing Rob wrote to me, last night, the night he died...
Mar. 23rd, 2007 10:28 pm (local)
"My dad's 30 years older than me. I remember being maybe 20 and asking him what his favorite age was, and he thought for a minute and said 37, because we kids were such-and-such ages and yadda yadda. So I remembered that, and used 37 as a sort of yardstick. It came & went, and my life then (5 years ago) sucked ass. I thought, "The best better be yet to come." What I've come to realize since then (with the help of my 92 year-old grandmother) is that the best is today, because as many rainbows as we've definitely experienced in the past, we've got all those (experiences) in our pocket, maybe even today's rainbow, and tomorrow we might be dead. Which, arguably, might be the biggest & brightest rainbow of all, but Grammy suddenly lapsed into naptime before we got that far."
Let us know, Rob, if death is in fact the biggest and brightest rainbow. It was sure cloudy and foggy here on earth today.