A letter to My (Dead) Sister About her Little Boy
In the first few years of my grief, writing was an enormously helpful outlet. But, in the past year, I’ve lost (temporarily?) the urge to write. Maybe because of the pandemic, maybe because I fell out of the habit. Or maybe it’s because my grief doesn’t hurt in the same knife-constantly-piercing-my-heart kind of way.
I found this letter I wrote to my sister in July, 2019 — just before the 2 year anniversary of her death. Since I’ve lost my drive to write anything new, I thought I’d share something a little old. I have no memory of writing this, but I’m glad I did.
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Dear Alison,
I know that all you would want to know is about Sam.
Your beautiful boy is ok. You would recognize his intelligence — he is still so smart. His baby curls have disappeared, but his hair is still ‘swamp’ colored (the term you used to describe my hair, and then when Sam was born with the same color you decided to save face and keep the stupid adjective).
He is still a poor napper, pretty much dropped them altogether, and it’s hard to get him to sleep at night. He still loves to put his hands down shirts and rub arms when he wants to be comforted.
You wouldn’t be surprised to know that he is still clingy, now with his dad instead of…
