Laughter, Like A Silver Bell

Dear Rachel,

I’ve been remembering your laughter. In a drone of voices, it rang out like a silver bell; it was unmistakably you, and I could always hear it, even in a crowd. No matter the size of a gathering, we could always find you by the sound of your uninhibited, honest laugh. Sometimes it burbled like a clear, running stream; sometimes it fell, emerging instead as a low, throaty chuckle.

Either way, hearing it, I would know two things that were, oh, so important to me: I would know where you were, and thus, that you were safe; and I would know that you were happy.

And now we have to live without that laughter. The world is an immeasurably darker, more somber place now, and it doesn’t even know what it’s lost. But we know: me, your mom, Lesley, Amy, your friends and family. We all know what’s been taken from us and we know all about the ragged hole your absence leaves in our hearts.

How ironic, if there were indeed a heaven, that you would get to go there while the rest of us remain here in hell.

Love,

Dad