Life hasn’t been fair to this family. You, your father, your grandfather, and I know how life can throw the worst of curveballs. My life here is short, and when you read this I’m betting I’m already dead. Or I will be soon. I have given each of these letters a lot of thought. What I want to say to each one of my lovely sons, daughter, grandsons, and granddaughters. You, I am finding more than difficult to write. You’re one of the most amazing people I know. I miss your smile around the house, and your sense of humor. Laughter still fills the halls, but there’s no one opening doors and singing or dancing. No one barging in my room to demand an audience for his latest performance. I miss the times you would come in our little apartment and talk to Grandpa and I. Since the accident I have missed all of that.
I want you to do something for me, as my dying wish. I would like you to return to singing. You have a gift, Jamie. A gift so majestic and powerful that it would be a shame if you kept it to yourself and only sang to Kyle. I know it’s not dancing. You may never be able to dance again, but you can still be a performer on that stage. You once dreamed to be on the Broadway stage. I want you to dream again. That wheelchair of yours shouldn’t dictate who you are—you are a true performer, Jamie. Please, do this for me, and find your passion once again.
One last thing, and I am telling this to each one of my loved ones, protect your grandpa. Parker may be strong, but he’s not. He’s had a tough and rough past, and I am afraid that my death will kill him. You know more than anyone how close he’s come to take his life before. You know those feelings. Talk to him. Check up on him. Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid like using his gun on himself. He needs you, like you needed him.
I love you so much,
Grandma. Continue reading