A letter in many phases.

Here us the letter I wrote to you, and that Naomi read to you on Monday Night. I guess that you opened your eyes for a moment that night.

 

Dear, Sweet Jesse.

You are and will always be a soft presence. Loving, loved beloved and glowing. Your place in my families' life has been that of my own siblings. If it could help I would cover you in prayer flags, sweet songs and loving gazes. And I suppose that would help for a spell, and I hear that that is finally all the help you are getting right now. Pure, genuine and affectionate help. The help that allows your family members and friends into your room, the help that allows you to just be - scheduless and impartial to lunch or to dinner. I am so thankful for your part  in my life thus far. Your time has been so valued, so fashionably antiquated in your dapper way. So festooned in hats and laughter. I guess that it is now time to give yourself to love and to all that that entails. And we too must give our selves to love as well. I love you so and endlessly. So from this beginning starts the end and visa versa. Be well dear friend. Know that you are loved and do, lend us you patience and joy, as we shall need it throughout this next bit.

love,

Mim

 

I remember you at the Brattleboro Farmer’s Market when we were kids. You were helping Francoise sell bread. Years later I came to know as the constant visitor in our house, a friend of my sister’s and mine then our parents too. You will remain in  my mind well-attired, not in your fancy suits, but in Naomi’s pajamas. A fourth sister as it were. You and us, snuggled in and nestled down. That next morning was the last time I saw you. You ate countless eggs and pancakes, laughing over your medical-induced hunger.

 

Not being able to see you at the hospital was awful. I guess that prompted those little prayer flags. It hurts me to think about your passing, and how your parents and Harry and Naomi and those other people who were endlessly at the hospital must feel too. I’m with great people here, at a place I always assumed you’d get a chance to visit with Naomi and Ruth – perhaps over a summer. I am reminded of you so frequently dear one.

 

If I was bolder I would sing this song to you tomorrow or on Saturday, but despite everything I am not. So, here are some lines from it.

 

            “But to leave here in friendship, it cannot be wrong.

            For the silence of parting is but a rest in our song.”

Be well dear friend. You are surrounded in love and remembered with joy.

Love,

Mim