Dear UD,
Eight years ago on this day, we all gathered to celebrate your 61st birthday. The next month, we lost you. I can’t believe it’s been eight years since we’ve talked. Eight years since I’ve heard your voice. Eight years since we played Bridge together, ate together, laughed together.
Time
is uncountable. There are so many things I want to tell you, so many changes in
the world, in my life, so many times I want to brainstorm with you again.
Conversation, interrupted.
I’m starting my own business, a publishing
company, and publishing some of my books, and your plays. So many days, I wish I
could call you to talk about the company, the editing, the excitement, all
those details that you nurtured, and I wish so much you were here to see Memorial
Day Picnic published.
My grandson, DJ, David James, is a source
of love and joy and happiness. He shares a name with you, and like you, he is the
epitome of loving and creative and smart and sweet.
I met a brilliant, kind, amazing man, and
I wish we could all sit around the table, play Scrabble or Spades, and talk and
laugh and learn together.
One two three…those are only three but some
of the top, best, most precious I want to tell you, mom, dad…
Conversation, interrupted.
It’s Spring again, UD, so time to
celebrate and honor you and your influence on me, in this world, and in our
family. Happy birthday, Uncle David. You are remembered, you are missed, you
are loved.
Love, Rach
