<p>When Bill and I got married, Alex was 14. Their relationship was less then stellar, but in the end they made peace with each other. This letter came yesterday one week after Bill died.</p>
<p>November 2012</p>
<p>Dearest Mom_</p>
<p>How are you holding up Mom? I am OK, so no worries here. I'm not quite sure what to say or how to say it really. Death is never easy. I hate it, but I am thankful for the chance to say goodby and for the time to prepare so that it wasn't such a shock or surprise when the end came In my experience though, no matter how much preperation you put in to it, you're never-really-ready- per say, are you? Sure the blow is softened a bit, but when the time does finally come, still it hits us like a brick through a plate glass window, shattering our world apart and leaving us to pick up the pieces and go on. And if we are lucky, we will find the blessing in all; which is faith, hope and love; that die hard will to live and the ability to look beyond ourselves and truely appreciate something as simple as a kiss from a butterfly. Realizing that chance to reconnect with people who are still with us. And finding reasons to smile despite ourselves knowing the we have loved unconditional and been loved alike, and that we are still loved by those around us....</p>
<p>So, after they told me this morning, I went to work and wrote this short, short story. I revised it a bit to better relate to you rather then me since thats how it first came out.Anyhoo....</p>
<p>The Death That Consumes Us All----R.I.P William Holmes</p>
<p> She walked onto the scene all downtrodden and glum, just like November rain that so cold it can be felt deep within the bones. She had that look of razor sharp saddness that only comes from great loss. Her eyes were numb and vacant as they stared off into the horizon at some unknown, unseen object. They also carried a wet sheen from virtuousness of tears on the verge of spilling their essence out into the cruel world.</p>
<p> "What's up, hon?" I asked---distraught to see my friend in such a trouble state.</p>
<p> "He's gone." was all she said, as if that explained everything, which of course it did.</p>
<p> "Your other half?"</p>
<p> She just nodded and mumbled something, that to most would be inaudible, but I'd known my friend long enough to understand. She wanted to know, "How I guessed?" since family was not something we often talked about out here in the desert, simply because some memories are best left to ourselves for when we need them the most.</p>
<p> I said to my friend, "Because when we lose a loved one, no matter how you say it, it still comes out as spouse or mom or dad, sister, brother child or friend---not so much because of what is said, but how it's said. It is the intimacies of the passionate voice that speaks out and the body language that goes with it, as well as those subtle hints of familiarty....There are some things, in which the mind just knows without explaination...If it means anything; "I'm sorry."</p>
<p> She nodded again as the tears---not to be withheld any longer---flooded unto the hard, dry ground where they lay, soaking into the Earth---forgotten, eventually turning to dust and blowing away in the wind---gone forever...</p>
<p>Well Mom, thats all I got. My heart blead for you and I so wish I could be there. My prayers are for you Mother. I love you and I miss you. Take care and God bless.</p>
<p>Love, Your Son, Alex XOXO </p>
<p>Well for someone who didn't know what to say, I think he did a good job!! </p>
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