Thanks For The Memories

Dear Rachel,

The secret to surviving Thanksgiving, apparently, is to keep busy. Today I’m buried in CDs, DVDs, and assorted computer peripherals as I test two new Linux distributions (SUSE and Mandriva) for an upcoming article. I haven’t had much time—haven’t allowed myself much time—for dwelling on the fact that today is the opening round of the holiday season I’ve been dreading.

Yet, I have much to be thankful for: a wonderful wife, family, home, job, and all the rest. So many have so much less. I do appreciate these things; I do know how lucky I am, in so many ways. Still, it's hard to get into the holiday mode, difficult to truly be thankful in the midst of this pain.

Nice, though, that we've received so many calls and emails today. Friends and family just "checking in" to see how we're doing, letting us know that they're thinking of us during what they know will be a difficult time.

Of course, while I no longer have you, I do have memories of you: I remember that you were terrified (although I didn’t realize it ‘til much later) when the old orange Karmann Ghia died on the freeway and I had to push it to an off-ramp and then dive back into the car and pop the clutch to get us going again. I remember that one of your earliest memories (you must’ve been around three years old) was lying about how that paint got peeled off the wall behind your bed. (And how odd that I know this!) I remember playing catch on a camping trip, and how you “caught” the ball with your mouth, knocking out an already-loose tooth. (And how, forever after, you’d put on that sly grin and tell people how “Daddy once knocked out my tooth.”)

So many memories, some good, some bad, but all of them cherished because they’re now all that I have left of you.

Love,

Dad