Dear Jonesie:

I am day late and a dollar short but that seems to be the way it goes these days. In my defense, I did start writing this yesterday, but I got distracted, I ran out of things to say and I abandoned ship. You see, you were always the one that was good at having things to say. You know me, I get quiet, I turn into myself, I overthink, overanalyze and just stop talking. I remember one of the first times meeting your mom, she said she wished she could be more quiet like me. It’s not a blessing, I don’t think. I’d much rather just ramble out of the mouth at all times, make people feel at ease when they are around me, instead of the awkward, uncomfortable, where do I look and where should I keep my hands vibe I tend to put out there! Oh well!

The thing is, you’ve been gone for 9 months and I just don’t feel like I know you anymore. I hold onto all the memories that I can. I try to remember it all. But I can’t. Hell, I don’t feel like I know myself anymore. What I can tell you is that I am as happy as can be expected. Ish. Someone asked me the other day why I never sit still anymore. The answer is simple: I can’t. I don’t want to sit still. I don’t want to be at home. I need to go and do and surround myself with people because the truth is, it’s just way easier. I’ve never been known as a people person – I’m usually introverted, quiet and awkward (we’ve been over this) and I still am, I just now also force all my shy awkwardness on other people, whereas before, I was content to just force it upon you.

It’s been the longest shortest 9 months of my life. Does that even make sense? Probably not. You’ve missed a lot and yet maybe you haven’t missed a thing. Life continues to go on. The void becomes less and less, because let’s face it, it has to. We can’t be in a perma-state of woe is me, asking ourselves, God or anybody who will listen why all the time, or just feel sorry for ourselves. Certainly we still do all of those things, but it becomes less, smaller bits and pieces of our lives. Although, we all know, every time I say these things, the next day, everything turns to shit. But it is what it is. (Ironic, I wrote this yesterday – and today I’m just a little overly sensitive, easy to cry and quick to snap. It never fails. Every. Damn. Time.)

Jack hit his first over the fence home run. It was as incredible as we thought it would be. The minute the ball came off the bat, I knew it was gone. He had the biggest smile on his face running around those bases. I cried, shockingly. Not like crazy crying, but certainly some happy tears streamed down my cheeks. Unfortunately, the homer got trumped by some inappropriate behavior on our boys part out in the field. He got a little mouthy (very out of character for him) out on the field. So after the scrimmage, I congratulated him on his home run but then also had to go into mom mode and correct what I deemed unsportsmanlike behavior. And you know me, I went all Kellie Purple Hulk mode, and of course, made him cry and feel like his first ever dinger was completely insignificant. Which was not my intention at all. But when I get going, I have a hard time reigning it back in. Yay single parenthood. I’m really rocking it like a pro. (insert sarcasm here)

Colt caught his first 2 bass the other day in the pond in our backyard. I don’t know how or why he is such a natural born fisherman, he certainly did not get that from you or me, but man is he killing it?! He baits his own hooks, he casts his own lines, he is patient, he is quiet and he is successful. I envy him. I went deep sea fishing this weekend. Know what I caught? Way too big of a buzz. You probably would have been less than proud, but you still would have thought I was kind of cute in a drunkenly annoying tell me that you love me sort of way.

Our anniversary came and went. I thought about gathering some of your favorite people and going to Colington Cafe but it just didn’t work out and may not have been the appropriate time for it. I’m not sure. Maybe for your birthday, which is also coming up. I played golf with some great ladies, though (and hit the ball shockingly well, considering the fact you haven’t been here in ages to tell me what I’m doing wrong and I haven’t played in ages). We drank Shiner. We poured one out for you. And we even talked to George for you. I didn’t get sad, didn’t shed a tear, may have cursed at you a bit. And right or wrong, that felt good. We celebrated you, us, what we had and what will never come to be. And that’s ok. Because it has to be.

We finally broke ground on the new house. It’s pretty exciting. I have a feeling things are going to start moving at a rapid rate, and now that it’s here, I’m not sure I’m quite ready for it. I guess that’s the case with most change. It’s scary at first but then you settle in and all the craziness becomes the new norm. I’d say we’re borderline experts at craziness becoming the new norm.

Virtual school starts next week and all I have to say about that is a resounding fuuuuucccckkkkkkkkkkk!!!! Excuse my language. It is what it is. It will be what it will. I will do my best. I’ll try not to blow up at our children too, too often but I guarantee nothing.

We miss you. We love you. What else can we say? Until next time…

Love you always,

Poopsie