The Goodbye Note
That was supposed to be your name. In all honesty, it’s a family name and sounds pretty regal, but I actually got the idea from lover Jacques in the Ya Ya Sisterhood. Yea, I know. I was in high school when I first thought about you, so please don’t hold me totally accountable for that.
I imagine we would have been friends, but I would have been fiercely protective. I think whoever I ended up with would have had to pry me away from you for work and dates. I just would have understood the miracle it was to even get you here, and would have done anything not to lose you.
And that’s where I think I’m a bit caught up. I did lose you, and I had to be part of that decision. My friends here, who you would adore, tell me that I had no choice if I wanted to survive. But then that just means I chose me over you, and that makes me feel even more terrible.
Like, what do I do now? The rest of my life was supposed to be about raising you to be the man your father is. It was supposed to be spent watching you blush over your first crush, and sitting in front pew as you swear your life to her. It was supposed to be leaving a legacy of my(our) own that changed the world after I(we) am(are) gone.
But when the heavy, dark clouds of your loss lift a bit, I realize that the only way to honor who you would have been is make damn sure every step in my life contributes to a healthier, happier society.
Listen, Bubba, I have to say goodbye to the should have’s right now in order to wake up even one more day down here. I can’t be thinking that I should have pushed harder to have you, I should have sustained the chemo better, I should have died trying to have you…Or I will lose all sight of the life I have left.
I will sense you in absolutely everything. The winding paths at Wollersheim, a high-pitched giggle in the airport, tiny footprints in the sand at Vilano Beach.
And when the time is right, I will finally meet you face-to-face some day. I love you.