As a peace corps volunteer one of the biggest issues you have will be sense of emasculation when troubles arise at home. This is an attempt to deal. Now why I posted such a private letter on the internet, I’m still not quite sure. Maybe it’s because I write better when the audience is more obscure. Maybe this is easier than mass emailing it to the loved ones I need to send it to. Maybe it’s because people should know where others come from. Or maybe it’s just that I rarely don’t care what assumptions are made and I always try to lay everything out there. Here it is.
Mom,
You taught me to sing and dance without care of what others may feel. At this moment all I have are the brief glimmers of bright in what else was/is a chaotic relationship and battle of family. As distant as two points can be it’s scathing to see pain caused by you and dwelling in the family. The joys and thrills we find in this world are shared with evils and illnesses none can predict. We are a network of blood that has stared down and experienced the worsts of humanity while still holding the tag of “privileged.” Our kinship witnessed death of innocence and the unjust depreciation of a beautiful spirit dwindling behind concrete. Though all from one, we’ve coped in our own unique ways. A few bawl in the corner, comforted by something beyond and the coldness of the floor. And when their ducts are empty they stumble to a stand and find sanctuary in others as mumbles turn to discussion and possibly back to tears. At least one absorbed the traumas into his own persona through rationale and sarcastic relativism. Then pressing on in hopes all the heartaches will be powdered away by the half lives of others. Anyone in the circle can be found with a number of glitches and defects causing our quirks, diversities, and uniques. We can be stubborn, passive, careless, or lack tact to the degree of inappropriate. Others are cast the lot of inability to process. When horrific events occur in a family, especially one after the other, they don’t cry, they don’t find shelter with friends, or drink seriously in solitude. They set themselves apart from this reality and the results of hubris, and pluck together unrelated threads to form a line which not only makes sense to you, but curbs the anguishes of the truth. Living with others, however, the creation is instantly threatened and new variables must be joined to hold the line fast. Voices and variables bloom on the twine to keep the view alive. As years go on untreated, a simply woven chord meant innocently for defense has mutilated it’s nature into vines and webs of complex conspiracies and fantasized events that hurt, most importantly, the love ones trying to care for you. Mom, some children are too good for this world and Grant was one of them. Maternity is a fragile period and it halts by any number of problems and sicknesses. But it was no one’s fault and there is no evil back story. Young adulthood mires the best of us with the surprise of real life and humanity’s rushed, obliged questions on the rest of life are pressed upon you. Not even Josh can fully explain why he took the actions he did, but they were his own and he put himself in a position where the worst could happen to him and it did. The judge was a self-absorbed coward and gave a sentence far surpassing any plea arrangement and more horrendous than the simple stupid mistakes on the table. I’m unaware of the odds for a lookout with a broken radio to get two decades, but at some point there had to be an unlucky winner and Josh was it. There was Josh, the judge, and their decisions and nothing more. The reality we have now makes life a struggle each and every day, but it’s the reality and the fight your family, all of your family members continue to share. Our burdens are like those of many others, but what holds us from budging in the progress is you. You not making that grueling, courageous decision of accepting events as they were and as they are now. We need you to do this. We need you to take whatever medicines that can help you reach that point. There are no voices, no secret organizations, no conspiracies. What we have is us, our past deeds, and our future hopes. Now I’ve written at length on all of the feelings because if your current state is what you wish forever, then this is my closing letter. I will do whatever the family asks of me to help find you again, but I’m finished talking to you and pretending you’re fine. There are other deserving issues in the family and the out that have been neglected for far too long. Through the turmoil, your children have become a tough, compassionate, and self-reliant batch. In spite of Josh’s circumstances he holds a level of optimism and faith most can only aspire to. Tatum has shown to impress even the deepest of critics. She’s found what should be prioritized and knows now to invest in them. Tatum is stubborn and hardheaded, but thanks to all the family chaos I think she has more than enough grit to handle any situation. And Chase, well he’s developed a philosophy that one’s own comfort and happiness matters less than what can be secured for others. Mom, we’ve developed into phenomenal adults, and we don’t harbor resentment for you not being there for so long. Your sickness is not your fault, but you won’t find betterment until you choose to do so. We wish it’s instant, we hope it’s soon, we know it will take time. Since you’ve started down this tunnel, when I think of you I try to remember positive moments like late night excursions for pizza in some dinky car or artful endeavors around the house. But memories blur with every reflection. We love you mom, and I hope to share laughs and loving words with you as soon as you can, but for now I say goodbye.
Dearly,
Your Son
