Dear William

Dear William,

Today, your mom will live out a parent’s worst nightmare by burying her only son– her only child.

From what I understand, you had a great year. You were strong, and you were dedicated. You were right on the path where God wanted you, which, unknown to us, was straight to Him.

You went to the hospital a couple of weeks ago, and we prayed that whatever it was you were going through would work itself out. None of us knew what was happening, but we had faith that you’d be fine in a few days. We quickly found that in the course of a weekend, you went from simply being a patient to being unconscious to being brain dead. Within the course of a weekend, I lost my cousin.

I hadn’t seen you since, what, Gran’s funeral? Geez. That was three years ago. We were all a mixture of sad and happy that day. Sad that we lost a loved one, but so happy that her 10+ years of suffering were over. Though, we did have a wonderful visit with everyone, reminiscing about Gran’s silly antics.

Now, here we are again, at your funeral, and we’re telling stories about you. Mom keeps recounting memories that she’s shared with me a hundred times, but they never cease to make me laugh. Like the time that you were riding your tricycle next to your mom and my mom. You had somehow hurt yourself and called out to them, “I hurt myself.” They, engrossed in their own conversation, just kept walking. So you blurted out, “I hurt myself I told you!” Mom still cracks up over that.

Then there was this other time that you were talking to Gran’s neighbors. They said that she told them to remind you about something. You were so protective of Gran. You got so angry and yelled, “WHAT? YOU TALKED TO MY GRAN?!?”

Oh boy, Will, I just don’t know how to feel right now. We were close in the way that siblings love each other. Maybe it’s because you were so close to my brothers– “Den-Den” and “Mark-Mark,” as you used to call them– that I saw you as a brother more than a cousin.

You remind me so much of Mark, sometimes. Your energy and passion for things. Not to mention your sense of humor. Like, when you played with Blue– you remember Blue? Goodness we loved that dog. She was so protective of your mom that if you went to give her a hug or kiss, Blue would go nuts. And sometimes, you’d lean over toward Aunt Bobbie, just to piss the dog off. Mark does the same thing with Maggie. We’ve found that if you creep ever so slowly towards her, she goes berserk, just like Blue used to.

Even though you loved pushing people’s (and dogs’) buttons, you had a great big heart. You cared so much about people. In fact, in one of the cards we sent to the hospital, Mark wrote that you saved his life. Your purpose of saving and helping others was well served.

Mark was right. I remember one night, you called Mom and Dad’s house while I was there, and we talked for 45 minutes about so many things. But ultimately, you wanted so badly for us to be back in church on a regular basis. You wanted us to remember what was important to us. You were so worked up about it, I had no idea what to do other than sit there and hear out your concern for our spiritual well-being.

William, the last two weeks were so rough. They say you had little to no brain function, but I’m sure you felt everything. Mom said that you would sigh when the doctors talked about your options. And I heard about your shaking… like you were fighting so hard to wake up from all of this. And those last couple of days. Mom killed me with reports about how the doctors had to turn you over to help you catch your breath. How they had to give you morphine just in case you could feel anything at all.

We’re glad your suffering is over now, but we are going to miss you so much, Will. Your smile, your laugh, your encouragement. But, we’ll forever have you in our hearts.

Love you always.