Well, dear brother, it’s been a month since you left us.
Thing is, I know since you received that Apostolic Blessing on your deathbed that you went right in. I’ve not had to wonder once who much time you’ll have in Purgatory. That’s a relief.
I’ve been voicing my prayers every day at mass. The priest at our 5:30 daily allows the 75 or so of us gathered together to mention our own petitions. I always jump in first and say “for the repose of the soul of my brother, Richard, we pray to the Lord…” I know you don’t need it. I just assume you’ll pass it on to someone who does.
There have been some very tough moments. Every now and then it strikes me. This is final. It’s over. As in, shit, Richard’s really dead. I mean, I should know that. I carried your heavy-ass casket up a flight of steps and I KNOW you were laughing at me for that. One night I was writing a blog and I thought of you and I broke down. My wife looked over and asked if I was OK. I think I was so I dropped it.
The thought crosses my mind every now and then that we never really got to know each other the way I had hoped. My baby girl, she loved you so much. There’s no accounting for it. She knew you even less than I did. But she delighted in jumping in on our FaceTime calls in the last few months and I could see a calm come over your face when you talked to her. It’s as if for those few moments the pain wasn’t the first thing on your mind. She misses you. She told me so.
Cancer, if I ever meet you face to face, you better run you little bitch.
I only told you this twice in my adult life that I’m aware of. I love you. I told you that the last time I saw you on New Year’s Eve and I told you that over FaceTime the night before you went home and both times you said it back to me and I know you meant it.
Now you know and see and behold Love with such clarity I couldn’t imagine it. You are united with Love.
I’ve been talking to you. Duh, you know that. Asking you to help with this and that. How strange will it be when we see each other again? We’ll have all eternity to get to know each other. I have to stop now. I’m rambling.
I love you. You’re at peace and I am comforted by that.
Please continue to pray for us, your family on earth. We’ll have many more of these “month’s reminders” of your life. But where you are, I believe it’s only like a blink of an eye until we meet again.