David Vincent Price
St. Johns Baptist Cemetery
2610 Nichols Avenue
Stratford, CT 06614
David,
I’ve been awake for three hours now watching the sun fill my living room and the shadows dance across the couch as the City wakes up. The world is waking up, and the familiar sounds remind me that I am about to embark on another day without you. I should have gone to the gym when I woke up, but I couldn’t do so until I finished this letter.
I want to pretend for a moment that none of this has ever happened and that if I texted you right now, you would respond or call me. I want to watch Gaffigan for the millionth time and watch you laugh at all the jokes that we already know by heart.
I want to give you a hug so big that maybe you would understand how much you mean to me. I would go to any length to protect you and remind you that no matter how bad it was, I would be by your side.
I wanted to be your best man. To be an uncle to your kids. I want to tell you how much you were my foundation and a base from which I could always fall back upon when the chips were against me. I want you to roll your eyes at me and to get frustrated at my wild ideas. I want you to get mad at the things I spend my money on.
I want to go on a bike ride, or go the gym and learn a new exercise with you. I want you to do that little dance you do when house music comes on. I want to get on a plane and take a trip to someplace warm, like we talked about on our last ski trip.
There are so many things we had left on the list. I found the card I gave you when you were in the hospital, and I was glad you kept it, but sad you didn’t get it. I drew all those little pictures for a reason.
There are so many things we were destined to do. Burying you was not one of them. Haven’t we had enough tragedy in the last few years?
What you did didn’t take away the pain. It compounded it. You’ve hurt a lot of people with your actions, and the mess you left behind is still trying to sort itself out over six months later. I don’t expect it will be sorted for a while.
I’m not mad. I’m just severely disappointed in you. I just needed you to wait a few hours so I could take a minute out for me and calm down from the night before. I knew when I looked at my phone that I was going to have to put on that black suit again. I hate that suit. I know what it means when I am tying my shoes and looking at myself in the mirror, telling myself to be strong.
Your entire family and friends miss you every day in their own way. We wonder what we could have said or done differently to have helped you over a hurdle we know you could overcome. It’s not fair that, for the rest of our lives, each and every one of us will think of one more thing we could have done.
David, you chose poorly. Whatever your reasons were for doing what you did, they were wrong. I’ve told you a thousand times that patience will usually resolve most problems. You didn’t listen. I don’t mean to be mean, but what you did was the most selfish thing I have ever seen you do. You didn’t think about what you were leaving behind. If you did, then I am even more disappointed, and shame on you for being so selfish. There is always another option.
You’re missing so much. Your goddaughter is growing up and is amazing. Your cousins are graduating college, and Becca’s having a baby. There’s so much more to tell, but I’ll save it for another time.
We’re all going to continue on with our lives, but it’s not going to be the same without you by our side.
I miss you most of all. It’s not a contest, but there is not a moment that goes by where I am not thinking about you. I feel like you let me down. You promised me you would try. You broke that promise, and in a way, you broke me. Unfortunately, it’s the biggest mistake you have ever made, and you cannot take it back.
So I’ve got to go now. I miss you, Little Brother. I’ll stop by the cemetery when I am in CT next.
Love you more than you will ever know,
TP
