I went to therapy after he died because I stopped taking care of myself and landed in the emergency room (of dehydration... nothing too serious, but it was enough to knock some sense into me). I only lasted two sessions in therapy, but one thing my theropist had me do was write Derek a letter. It wasn't for anyone else to read, I wasn't going to send it to anyone... she just told me to write. So I wrote. It's not a long letter. There's more humor than sadness. More hope than depression. I read it at least once a year. And I cry every time. But it's what gets me through some of those toughest times.
There are certain things I can't do without thinking about him... certain songs that still get me... certain people that are still hard to be around... but it's getting better.
I'm not going to share the letter I wrote to him, but one sentence from it reads:
Your boys are leaving for Iraq once again in a few short days. What I wouldn't give for you to be going with them. I know they would do anything for you to be there with them. Spending time with them, getting to know them and seeing the pain in their eyes proved what a wonderful friend, son, boyfriend and brother you were... and without even trying.So here's to you , Derek. I know you're out there, with a shit-eating grin on your face, looking down and looking after all of us. I love you. Ooo-Rah!
