Dear Kim,
It's six years since you left this planet. Today, November 14th. It sounds selfish, but I'm grateful that it wasn't a week earlier, on my birthday. It's still hard enough that it's so close. I know many people lose loved ones on birthdays and holidays, or near them, which must make those days even more difficult than they already are.
Look at your smiling, happy face. We all miss it so much. We know you would want us to smile, laugh, live, and love, yet we are still struggling. You touched so many lives - for the better, of course. You had so many friends, who I am sure still love you and miss you terribly, like we in your family do, too.
I regret all the time we didn't spend together, because you were living far away, or because Dean and I were too tired to spend some Sundays when you lived here, etc. I'm sorry for not letting you come out to dinner on Christmas Eve a couple of times with Dean's family because I was too worried about offending some who would be left out. That was wrong of me. No matter how much time we did have together, when someone is gone, you just wish for more.
I remember a lot of good times...
When you were around five years old, you and Juli dressed as Princess Leia and Han Solo, respectively. I don't know if it was Halloween, or just for fun, but I wish I could find that photo right now. Also around that time, you and I jumping in puddles during a rainstorm. The three of us building forts in the living room, and going skiing (you and I taking turns going through each other's legs on a gentle hill at Alpine Valley). The three of us girls and Mom all dressed in the same sundress (it was longer on you because you were small (they were stretchy on top and were one-size-fits-all)). Me flying you like an airplane on my feet, and also flying you by one arm and one leg outside, too (you were always so fearless).
When you were around twelve years old, four of us in the family going to Austria. You and I spending some time on our own, getting lost in Innsbruck, laughing with the waiter who laughed at you picking up half of a pizza to bite it, trying to get him to figure out which menu to give us (we only knew English well enough), singing songs (about pizza, arriving at the hotel, etc.) all around the town and laughing at Mum's funny jumping jacks/scissors walking/jumping move. Then later, in our room, you singing your song from the musical you starred in. I saw many of Juli's plays and musicals in later years, but I couldn't make it to that one of yours because I had no car. You played Sleeping Beauty, but it was before cell phones and the preponderance of camcorders, so we have no record of it.
When you were around thirteen years old, all of us going to Jamaica, and you begging me to go to the beach, me being too lazy for sunscreen that day and getting burned, bright red, painful legs, and Mum putting aloe on them.
And then when you were an adult and moved back here again...
Laughing at your place on Sundays when your wonderful, silly Ethan was being so funny. I worked hard cooking things for your special diet, so we could all eat together. I cherish those Sundays. There were too few of them.
Our time was all too brief, once you were back home.
I wish I could feel that carefree joy again.
Love,
Chris
