Dear Charles:
I love you. I miss you. I remember you. I wish you were still here. It seems wrong that you're not. You should be 30 years old. You should be married. You should have kids, or at least one on the way. You should be here. You should be playing with Emmeline and be her favorite uncle. We should be sitting on Mom and Nick's porch, catching up on what's going on in each other's lives. You should have a good job that you love. You should be making Mom and Nick and Patty and Paul proud of the man you've turned out to be. You should be the brother that I love to hang out with during the holidays. You should be the person who's found himself. You should be here.
You should be here. I try to tell myself that you moved on because you were ready to do so--because you had one of the kindest, wisest souls that I've ever known. And it's true. But you should still be here. We weren't ready for you to go.
Eight years. I love you. I miss you. I remember you.
Charles Eric Johnson. 1978-2001.
2 comments:
I didn't know you had a blog! I miss him too. I sometimes feel like I have to live now for two. Hard enough for one. I hope he likes how I'm doing it. I don't know when I'm coming back. Probably won't be able to afford it until some pay from a new job kicks in and I get some holiday time. No sooner than Christmas, at the earliest, I would guess. But who knows. I wish I could just come but the funds are just not there. That's what I'm trying to fix. Fix by moving to the East and hopefully by publishing something. Did I tell you I'm writing country songs now? All I need is just one hit...
We'll be alright.
Your family was in my thoughts that day. I happen to plant a tree Saturday & I thought about him. Every time I pass the old church on the beach & see his bench, I remember.
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