Dude, Friday was my birthday. I turned 35. Dude—35. Oh, the hell you would’ve given me for almost being 40 years old. I'm almost over the hill. That’s what we said to Dad when he turned 40, remember? Oh, how my life is so fucking different since you left me. Every year, you were insistent… Continue reading You didn’t call
Category: Letters to Alan
I feel you
People often say that we don't really ever lose our loved ones, they visit us in different forms. Some people see cardinals, but me, Alan I see you in Dragonflies. I have always loved the dragonfly and the spiritual meaning of seeing them. In my garden in the past, I have had butterflies, and all… Continue reading I feel you
Your absence
Sunday was Mom's birthday. We went and ate at Pizzaghetti, in Lavon. We all sat on the back patio and ate and just visited. Mom and I didn't do much talking about really anything we just soaked up the time we were spending with family. But your absence was felt, in the moments when Addie… Continue reading Your absence
From my Soul to Yours
Mom closed your bank account today, yesterday they picked out your gravestone material, they decided what to put on the front, what scriptures to put on the back. Alan, I have missed you so much here lately. The Texas Rangers have been winning games. Every time they win all I can think about is your… Continue reading From my Soul to Yours
28 Years
Oh Alan, my Lanay Ichaelmay Ayray. How do I sum up 28 years of our lives? How do I tell tell people how much I love you, how big of a hole is left in my soul and my being without you! How do I continue without you? For 28 years you have been there… Continue reading 28 Years
The Hand Hold
Alan used to hit me—not on purpose. His arms had a mind of their own when he got excited, and more often than not, I ended up with a shoulder bruise or fat lip. So I started holding his hand. It calmed him. Grounded him. Let him know it was okay. Even when he didn’t… Continue reading The Hand Hold
Absolution Ascent Anchor 