November 01, 2022
James,
You've written so many letters over the years, letters that instilled much emotion in me that I couldn't help but reread your letters again from time to time. If I may be honest with you, I never thought you would write so much nor continue writing until your final days here on our little world. I thought that you would give it up after Julia was born, but you didn't. I'm glad you didn't. These letters made me so happy over the years, but now I'm feeling ambivalent about them at the moment. I know that you didn't care about me writing back - just seeing me laugh, cry, and react to the plethora of letters you've written for me was satisfaction enough. But now I'm feeling regretful about not writing back to you - I felt the exact same things you did, and I would have also loved to have you read my letters. However, I'm ashamed to say that this is may be my first and last letter I'll ever write to you. All I can say is that I'm sorry for not writing sooner. It was a mistake not writing back to you all these years.
These past few weeks have been the most difficult for me. Witnessing your health deteriorate rapidly before my eyes just crushed me. Almost instantaneously, you became so frail. Almost overnight, you became a stranger to me. I thought to myself, "Who was this man? Where did James, my beloved husband, go off to? What did you do to him?" And all I could do was panic. What else was I supposed to do? I couldn't handle seeing you so radically different, let alone communicate with you. There was so much fear and worry harbored in my heart. I wanted, I hoped, I needed you to help me dispel these insecurities of mine.
When I received news of your passing, I was paralyzed. My whole body was numb. I couldn't even react to the message that I was being told. It was as if a crown of thorns had constricted my heart. Every move I made became lethargic, hindered, as though I was wading through water. Sounds phased in and out. I couldn't breathe. It was all incomprehensible. When the initial shock was over, I managed to pass on the phone to your mother, who was with me at the time, and asked her kindly to look after our children for a while. All I wanted to do was to stumble to our bedroom, lock the only door to the rest of our home, and cry. I wanted to forget what I now know, the reality of our situation. All I wanted to do was turn back the clock and undo it all. But I couldn't. All I could do was cry myself to sleep.
Doctor Krazynsky told me to prepare for this day, and to accept the grim reality you were facing. He advised me to prepare myself for the cataclysmic blow that I would have to endure. The same blow that had already threatened to destroy our already fragile world. How could I prepare myself? How could I face the inevitable? More importantly, how would I be able to muster the strength to on, if at all possible? No matter how much I would prepare for the inevitable, it simply wasn't enough. It would never be enough. No amount of time could ever make all of this any easier - it would all hurt just the same.
Since your passing, I've never felt so hollow, so incomplete. I found myself becoming lost, searching for something familiar. Tears often trickle, marring these green eyes you've cherished so much. There are moments in a day or two that I find myself gazing through a window. I sometimes embrace myself, wondering, thinking, hoping that you'll walk through the door, ready to hold me tightly in your arms, like you always did whenever I was troubled. A smile hesitantly slips out in hope, but quickly fades away in despair. Everything became trashed, scattered, irrelevant, and, at times, worthless. Life lost its attraction and the flavors that made life so rich and invigorating became acrid, debilitating. In those first initial days, I trapped myself in our comfortable prison. Isolated, I had struggled finding the strength to go on. I wrestled in silent agony the torrents of raw emotion, spawned from devastation, trying to find peace and tranquility through my dissonant existence in several day's time. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough for me, and now I'm striving to carry on, mired in heartbreak and anguish.
On the day of your burial, I had asked Julia and Lucas to bring a small gift for them to give you. I asked one of our friends to babysit Claire and Matthew - regardless, they'd be too young to understand it all. I had hoped that it would help us have some closure of sorts with you, but I don't think it helped too much. It was difficult to be there and see a thick slab of stone erected from the ground bearing your name. In its entirety, it read, "Here James Swisher - Beloved Husband, Father, & Friend (1989-2022); 'I was only in a childish way connected to the established order...’" I struggled to maintain my composure for our children. When the time came to lay your body to rest, after everybody else placed flowers and had their last moments of privacy, I had Julia and Lucas place their gifts on top of your casket. Julia placed her beloved plush brontosaurus, Brutus, on the casket. She later told me that Brutus brought her so much joy and Julia hoped that Brutus would also bring you much joy as well. Lucas gave up his best drawing of the six of us, as a family. I had the drawing framed, for this monumental moment in Luca's life. Finally, for my gift, I returned the ring that you gave me all those years ago. It's impeccable luster has been maintained all these lengthy years, brightly holding on to the promise we made made all those years ago. As your coffin was being lowered into the ground, my thoughts turned to our wedding ceremony and the vow I made then...
"I still remember that shy young man I met not so long ago. Our eyes met and we smiled, but you didn't speak up. I waited patiently for you to take initiative, to come over to me and introduce yourself, but you never did. I really took to liking you at the moment, and I didn't want it to be a missed encounter, so I knew I had to speak up or forever hold my peace (no pun intended). As I walked to the table you were sitting by, I realized just how timid you really were when I sat down across the table from you. The rest is, as they say, history. That was just close to two years ago, but look at you now. You have changed and grown so much in our time together. I am honored, blessed, and fortunate to be your wife. You loved and cared for me in ways that my friends couldn't care for me. You always sacrificed yourself just so that you would be certain that I was cared for. Not many men would do that for others, but you always did for me. I was always safe when you embraced me - all my insecurities and pains would ebb away whenever I was around you. We've been through so much in so little time, and now, as I am here standing before you, God, and our witnesses to our holy union, I know full well that life will blindside us with many trials and tribulations, which we can no longer accomplish and overcome on our own. We will now need each other more than ever before - to love and trust each other on levels that we'd never thought we could attain. I want you to know that you can trust me to smile for both of us, for tomorrow as we painfully endure today. I will be by your side, not as a wife or partner in life, but as your best friend. I always cherished the times we were together, when it was just you and I, because you always became the shy young man that I fell for in the beginning. And in those private and intimate times we shared together, I found myself falling in love with you again and again. You are so very dear in my heart. I love you. I always loved you and I always will love you."
Watching your quaint cedar box descend into the earth below was difficult. I knew that it wasn't just your body that was being laid to rest: our life together went with you as well. All of our time together, the life that we've built over the years, the promises we bestowed upon each other - they, too, have been laid to rest. All I could ask myself was, "What happens now?" I knew that my life would never be the same from that day on. I still don't know what to do or where I'm going. All I know is that I can't hold on to our past anymore. Because I've spent so much time trying to live in the past, I'm presently failing to deal with what's happening and I'm not striving for a brighter future for myself or for our children. I needed to see you laid to rest if I am going to have any chance of moving on with my life and be happy again. I know you would understand. So this is good-bye, James, and thank you for being The One Just For Me, my best friend, and the father to our children. I will never forget the love, the joy, and the life we shared together.
"...Our time together was special, unique, romantic, and memorable...Our lives were meant to be
intertwined temporarily...
With a love that will always be incomplete without you,
Mary
Mary
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