Our last day together. It seemed like it was yesterday. If only I could go back, and relive that day. I would have done everything different, but would it have mattered to you.
You were home from Mankato one weekend. We were going up North to Princeton to be with family. We were all still sad about losing Uncle Skip, the wounds weren’t healed yet. Princeton was a place he loved going, and it was hard on everyone to go up there.
We had a meal, sat by the fire, played with the little kids on the playground and laughed and had a good time. I remember you loved little Amelia and Alton. You were so wonderful with children, more wonderful than I could ever be with them.
They adored you, and you adored them. You would have been the best father. I always pictured you with a big family, lots of kids, a beautiful wife and you being a professor. Your kids would have loved animals, would have loved science, the earth and nature. You would have taught them all to fish and live a very eco-friendly life.
What a life it could have been.
At one point, the four wheeler became free and you said you wanted to drive it. I screamed like a little child and asked you to take me for a ride. Of course you said yes. We both hopped on and off we went. Off for those last minutes I would ever be alone with you, ever again.
I kept teasing you, giving you a hard time. I kept screaming you were a bad driver and not to go too fast. You would never go fast, you were always so gentle with everything you did in life.
We talked about college, work, life. Jurassic World was coming out soon and I begged for you to come home and go see it together. I made you promise. You said you wouldn’t want to see it with anyone else but me.
I held on to you tight, as we went over bump after bump. I felt such a peace, we were out in nature, we had this amazing family, life was good. I wish I could have seen through you. I wish I could have seen your true pain. I wish as being your sibling I could have known something was wrong.
But you did such a good job hiding it. Hiding it from me, from our family, from your friends, your job, everything. I still feel like I should have known and I still get upset with myself.
We took pictures together. Our last picture together. I took a video of us, and I was screaming how crazy of a driver you were while giggling. I have that video on my phone. I have rewatched it a thousand times. I need to hear your voice, see you alive again, see you with me.
Our last day together. It was wonderful, but I wish I would have done it all differently. I wish I would have spent more time with you. I wish I would have come down to visit you in your new place.
I constantly go through this cycle in my mind, at least once a day. In all reality, I know I could have maybe helped in some little way. But I know it wouldn’t have made the impact I would have wanted it to. I know eventually it would have happened, because that is what you ultimately wanted.
Our last day together was not enough. 20 years together wasn’t enough. I need you here with me, for the rest of my life. And that’s never going to happen, and I have to live with this now.
Until next time .
So it goes.