I’ve been thinking about you today. Trying to keep it to just at “lunch time” because I won’t be productive otherwise. My heart breaks every time I do. No good customer service experience could blossom from that. #NewJob
I want to make a movie for you, but I don’t know what to do. I thought I could do a documentary-style essay, or letter from me to you, but that’s too on the nose—I would cry the whole time and not get anything done.
I have a science-fiction idea, which could be really cool if I can shape it into a story. Ideas come easier than whole stories do. It’s something you learn the more time you spend writing. It would help if I knew what you looked like, you know, grown up. I don’t know. You were a beautiful baby though, and you had your mother’s lips. You looked like your brother did when he was first born. A little more purple, though.
Some people will read that last bit and think my joke in poor taste, but it isn’t for them. It’s for you and for me. And if you’re anything like your Dad, which I’m sure you would have been, you’d appreciate a good corpse joke, as I appreciate a good one-nut joke (as it pertains to my survival of testicular cancer in 2001).
Here’s what it boils down to: How can you miss someone you’ve never met so much that it breaks you apart every few days? How do you tell that story? You know, without just saying it–that’s too easy, and you deserve a masterpiece, not some Hallmark movie of the week. I love you more than life.
It’s therapeutic to write to you. I’m going to do it again.
Does it make a good blog post? Probably not, but I’d rather keep it here than risk losing the piece of paper. I’ll write you again soon…once I’ve figured out your story.