Dear Jonesie:

Kind of an oxymoron, huh? Death day and birthday right around the same time. Today marks 10 months since you left us. And Tuesday will be the 38th anniversary of your birth. I’ll never forgive you for not growing old with me. But I suspect you could careless.

It’s hard to believe it’s been 10 months since I’ve seen your face in real life. Probably longer for you since you were in a drugged up, not with it state. I’ve thought about our last night together a lot lately. In true Kellie fashion, I was inappropriate, making light of death rather than telling you how much I love you, how much I appreciate you and how much I’m going to miss you. Although I feel I’m a bit of a hopeless romantic, I wasn’t quite good at expressing myself or actually letting you know how feel. I can write it down like it’s my j-o-b, but give me face to face interaction and I clam up, like, well, a clam. (Not my best analogy there – I’m going to blame it on the tears is my eyes as I write this.)

What can I tell you? Jack has started talking about you again. A lot. Unfortunately, none of it is very nice. It’s no secret that the 2 of you didn’t have the best relationship, and I guess a part of him just needs to get it out, get it off his chest. And I understand that. It also hurts some kind of awful. I hate that he only remembers the bad. But maybe he has to get through the bad, before he can start remembering the good. Because certainly there was good, right?! Kidding, I know there was. Jack continues to excel in baseball. He’s doing well with virtual school also, but is struggling with math, which I am too stupid to help him with. 5th grade math ain’t my thing! He grows more mature by the day, always helping with Colt (perhaps a little too much!) and always looking out for me. He’s still a slob and still obsessed with video games, but I guess there could be worse things.

Colt’s birthday is coming up and no one is more excited than him. In his true Colt way, he has asked for some interesting things – a baby Groot, cool new baits, another fishing pole, a metal excavator and bull dozer and a Dr. Doom costume (which, by the way, doesn’t exist!). I got him baby Groot and a Dr. Doom figure and I’m taking him on a near shore fishing trip. I so wish you were here to join us, but alas, you, God and the universe have other plans. I’m sure I’ll write another poem that I’ll think is so wonderful, read it out loud and get the same lackluster reaction that I always get. Such is life I guess. Kindergarten is ok. More often than not, Colt has the consistency of a wet noodle or lava lamp, melting into the couch and trying to do anything but what he is supposed to be doing. Maybe it will get better. Maybe it won’t. All we can do is try.

As for me, I’m ok. Still short on patience, still yell too much. My 38th birthday came and went. You weren’t here. Although, I did get on the treadmill over the weekend and right in the center of the screen was one tiny pink flower. I’m assuming you perhaps arranged that. Which is ironic given the fact that you never gave me flowers that I can remember in our 13 years together. I’m not entirely pleased that you will be 37 forever while I continue to age but, again, nobody fucking asked me what I wanted. I might be a little bitter today. Shocking, I know.

Yesterday I had a near panic attack while driving to get gas. Over something quite ridiculous. But it struck me, while driving that Ash Jones ICE can no longer be my ICE (in case of emergency for those of you that aren’t quite as hip as me. Ha! That’s a joke.) But it hit me, I’m 38 years old and my in case of emergency contact is dead so good luck getting a hold of him. Although, to be fair, even if he weren’t dead, good luck getting a hold of Ash Jones. You know I’m right!! And man, did it take my breath away. I’m sure there are forms out there with you still listed as my emergency contact. Hell, my medical power of attorney still hasn’t been changed since your passing. And I know, I have my mom or dad or brother to take your place but I shouldn’t have to have someone take your place this young. It’s just not fair. But life ain’t fair. Lord knows we’ve all learned that. Anyway, it was a harsh reality that I hadn’t thought of until yesterday. And it sucks.

What else can I say? We miss you. I dreamt of you not long ago. You were in the backyard cutting grass and I ran out to touch you and as soon as I got to you, you turned into someone else. And that was pretty shitty.

We are well-ish. We love you. Happy heaven day and happy birthday!

Love,

Poopsie