My dearest Kathy Anne …
I thought I’d bang out another short note to you, per the advice of our friends. I thought I needed to tell you that I am having little difficulty looking at pictures of you.
You recall when Dad passed away in September 1980. I went to his office to clear out his desk. His colleagues gave me pictures of him to take with me. I couldn’t look at them. That unreasonable fear of looking at pics of Dad lasted a good while. It faded over time.
My loss of you was far worse than what happened that day more than four decades ago. It is no hyperbole, sweetheart, to tell you that Feb. 3, 2023, was the worst day of my life. My heart shattered into a million pieces. I am still trying to assemble it, but I know that’s an impossible task.
However, I am not suffering the kind of fear I felt at looking at pictures of Dad. I can look at your lovely face and I draw some form of comfort in seeing your buoyant smile.
Indeed, I have a lovely portrait of you hanging on a living room wall next to your angel collection. And, yes, I wish you good night when I turn at the end of the day.
I consider this to be a sort of triumph over the grief I continue to feel as I continue my journey through this dark period.
I also thought you needed to hear it from me.
Make no mistake that I think of you practically every waking minute of every day. I am heartened that I can look at your pictures and think of the moments they were taken and recall them with happiness.
I will miss you forever and then some.