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A Letter to My Godson

A Letter to My Godson: to be carried to him by the gentle winds of love.

Hi Bet, you awake? It’s a boy. I’m going to name him David Vincent. You’ll be his Godmother, I am counting on you to help me watch over him.
And I watched;
Bet, Davey isn’t feeling well, can you come over and watch him?
And I watched:
Aunt Bet, I can feed Becca, watch me.
And I watched.
Watch me, Aunt Bet, I can make the jump just like Jay.
And I watched, my little 4-year-old godson poised on the edge of the cottage bulkhead, calf muscles taut and strong as he leapt through the air, landing in the sand just slightly behind his cousin.
Aunt Bet, you coming to watch my basketball game, I’m pretty good!
And I watched, you were good.
I’ll do the dance show with Becca, Aunt Bet, you going to watch?
And I watched, you made me proud.
I’m hanging out with Jay, Aunt Bet, I’ll be okay, you don’t have to watch me.
But I watched.
Aunt Bet, I got you a ticket for my high school graduation, are you coming to watch me walk?
And I watched.
Aunt Bet, I want to work at People’s, think I can get in, you can watch out for me.
And I watched, you were a natural in the call center.
I’ve decided to attend my college graduation, will you come and watch me?
I watched, bursting with joy that we both succeeded in receiving our degree.
I bought a co-op in New York, come see it. I got a big award for sales. I’m in love.
I’m not in love. I’m OK. I’m not OK.

David, I am NOT watching anymore, I can’t.  I poured my heart out to you about how much life meant to me, how much I needed to live, how much I needed you to live. You knew I waged a battle against Crohn’s disease and cancer with all my might; holding onto life with tenacity and determination to make it through one more minute, one more hour, one more year. I watched you nod in agreement, you embraced me and whispered, you understood. You told me you would see me at Thanksgiving.

YOU didn’t understand, you let something so precious, so fragile, just slip through your fingers.  David, life dealt you a terrible blow, but if you had let us, together, we could have shouldered the burden, making it lighter just by the very presence of our family love. No one had to go it alone, but you chose such extreme solitude that none of us could penetrate your pain.  I am so sorry, Godson, for your pain, for the very depth of your despair…

But I will not watch your grave.

You should not be there.