I think of you every. single. day.
Probably every. single. hour, actually.
I put your picture on our fridge, and I talk to you sometimes when I'm getting a drink or something to eat.
Every now and then, I stop what I'm doing to remember your voice in my head -- especially to remember your laugh, and your thoughtful way of saying "hmmmm...." when you have a deep thought that's hard to express tactfully.
This morning Natalie noticed I was sniffling (I have a cold), and she asked if I was still so very sad about Uncle Wade. I told her yes, I am still sad, but actually the sniffle was because of my cold this time. Then I looked at her little face and remembered that she won't remember you, and it hurt a lot so I tried to think of something else really quickly.
Sometime I want to push away the hurt -- hurry and dismiss the thoughts before they become real and painful.
Sometimes I just want to let it out -- cry, scream, throw myself down for a good meltdown about how it all happened too quickly and we didn't get to say goodbye.
Other times I really just feel a sweet gratitude for being so blessed to have you for a brother.
And lots of times I just miss you -- like you're on a trip and we haven't talked in awhile.
I signed in to my account on myfitnesspal.com a few weeks ago. Yeah, I was thinking of trying to get some of this baby weight back under control. You are my only "buddy" on myfitnesspal. It said you haven't logged in for 7 months or something like that. It hasn't been quite that long that you've been gone. That little reminder was painful enough that I decided to wait a little longer on the fight against the baby weight. :)
I wonder what you're doing, what it's like where you are. I wonder if you miss us, or if life is just so peaceful and exciting for you, that you don't really think so much about us right now. Night before last, I felt like I dreamed about you. I mean, I really felt like you must have been nearby, because I woke up feeling like we'd just had a nice long phone chat or something... but I don't remember a single detail of the dream, other than that feeling, which was nice.
I keep wishing you'd go to Dad in his dreams. He seems to take it all very hard still, like the wound is so very slow to heal. He wants us all to be sure to talk about you and remember all the fun memories with you. But then, when your name is mentioned, it's easy to see he's really, really hurt. I wish there was some way for you to just help us all understand what it's like and how we're supposed to process things here.
My mind doesn't want to accept it. Every few days, I jump right back to that moment when Brian first told me, and it's like I'm hearing it for the first time all over again. I feel a painful lurch in my heart, and my mind tries again to deny that it actually happened, just like I did that first day. I wonder to myself how you would handle it and what you would do to cope, if situations were reversed or different... if you were dealing with this kind of loss.
One thing I hope you know, for sure, is that you are missed. Not just by me, but by everyone who knew and loved you here. There's no "replacement" for you, Wade. You are one person, and only one person. But there's no filling up the hole you left. There's a noticeable absence, especially every time we get together as a family. There is a different feeling, like we're all waiting for you to pull in the driveway or call and say you're caught up with friends in a game and will be later than you planned. It's a palpable presence... this feeling of missing you. I don't even know how to describe it well, but at times, it seems like it's almost as tangible as your physical presence would be, if you were still here.
There's no real reason for this, but I want to know what happened in those last moments. It makes no difference, really, does it? But in my mind, I can hear you rehashing the story, telling us all how freaky it was, how your heart was pounding so fast and you could see that the car was going out of control but you weren't sure what to do. I imagine it all in your words, your voice, for some reason. Was it a deer? Or did you just look down for a minute or something? You weren't asleep, I'm sure. But maybe distracted momentarily for some reason? Or just started to go off the road for a second then over-corrected? I suppose everyone will have their final story once this life is over, huh? Do you retell them to each other up there, and talk about how it was a "close call"... and then it was TOO close? hmm...
Well, these are all weird, random thoughts I have about you all the time. I miss you so much, Brother. I hope you miss me too.
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I wrote all that last week, then we went to The Parents' place for Memorial Day weekend, and just got back last night. Now I'm missing you even more. That bit that I wrote about your absence being so much a "presence"... so true; I felt it more than ever this weekend, just this feeling of missing you. We went to the cemetery all together, to see your awesome Monument. It's pretty sweet, Wade. I'll put up a picture of it here, once I upload my pics from the camera. You would like it. We left you lots of colorful flowers, and Dad and Mom said they're putting in a few extra vases so we can always keep bouquets there.
The kids seemed to have a hard time seeing your Monument -- (we've all decided that's a better name for it than a headstone.) Ryan, Tristan and Brandon especially seem to be taking this all quite hard. Ryan didn't want to get out of the car for a long time, until Lance talked to him for awhile. Brandon stood hugging his mom for a long time, just letting the tears flow.There was a can of RedBull someone left for you, not sure who it was, maybe Danny? And the Robinson boy who died in a motorcycle crash is buried nearby. His parents put in a huge bench that faces the back of your Monument. The little kids kept climbing on it and "owning it" for you, even though his parents were there sitting on it while we were there.:)
We spent a long time on Saturday going through the last of your things again. It was hard again and we all felt the hurt and emptiness again. Dad has the hardest time with that part, and can hardly part with any of your things, which breaks my heart for him. Trent seems to have found some peace or closeness by sorting and organizing things over these past months. The rest of us have been reluctant to revisit those memories, knowing you're gone.
No one appreciates all your gaming pieces and equipment nearly like you would like us too, I'm afraid. That's always been the case, eh? But we tried to be respectful and take some mementos to remember you and your hobbies and interests, and I think Trent plans to offer some of the software to your gaming friends. Trent's kids were excited to get your Infinity set. :) Samantha picked out a big ceramic wolf clock that she is eager to hang in her room. She picked some cute wizards for Natalie and Camille (who were asleep during the picking time.) And she picked that nasty, white pewter spider from Lord of the Rings for Spencer to have. Where did you even get that thing? It looks pretty real... and creepy!
On the way home last night, Spencer told us he wished we would take turns on the iPad like you did... where each person would get just one round of one game, and then pass it on to the next player. I thought it was cute that he remembered that, and I told him we'll try taking turns that way next time they get iPad time. :)
I think I could keep typing forever here, because when I'm writing, I feel like I'm talking to you, even though it's a very one-sided conversation. It feels comfortable, and it helps me deal with the grief. But I better sign off, so I can make time to write about other things, too. Kay? I'll write to you another time, soon. Promise. Miss you and love you, Wade.
Good night.
