It often occurs to me that visiting here, at this website, is a vicarious way to visit you… as if I am at your grave in Arlington.
I guess I write here hoping you have computer access!
In case you don’t, I read out loud what I write so as to increase the possibility you will know what rests silently in my heart.
(Funny, the games I play with myself. Sometimes I trust you know my unspoken thoughts.
Other times I consider that you can no more read my mind now than you could when you were alive.)
I do feel your presence, though… so many times… in so many ways; and I want to believe you still are here with us.
Sometimes we who come leave notes… to you and to each other, not unlike the pebbles left upon your gravestone;
a tangible reminder that we came.
Last night I went with your dad for a pre-race spaghetti supper before the Ortega Race that he ran this morning.
While there, I noticed a sweet little toddler tugging at his father’s pants leg, saying “Put me on your shoulders!”
(No doubt Pete would, I thought to myself.)
I was happy to see the young man scoop up his son, holding him in his arms momentarily.
The little boy tapped his father’s shoulder with his finger and said “Put me up here!”
(How many pictures do we have of YOU carrying Madeline on YOUR shoulders? She LOVED that spot!)
Then, as this caring father obliged his son’s request, I had the added pleasure of thinking: do I know this young man?
There was something about the eyes... yes, it had to be Brooks: your wrestling teammate from Episcopal!
We spoke (as I presume you know)… and it was so good to see him there with his wife and children
(one is on the way… maybe you noticed).
It is ALWAYS so good to see people who knew you.
It is especially good to see people whose manner and behavior reminds me of something that was good about you.
Last night, seeing Brooks and his family "out of the blue" seemed like something more than happenstance.
I took it as a birthday “hello,” from you and Your Father to your dad and me.
Pete, the pain of losing you can hit hard at any time of any day of every week. But there is joy in so much else about you, other than your death.
As a caring, loving husband and father, brother, son and friend, you were enormously rich and left the rest of us richer for knowing you.
As I remember fondly and clearly the day you were born 31 years ago, I give thanks that you were with us for awhile.
Re: A pebble on your gravestone today, February 24
Because it is my chosen habit, I will say at this precise anniversary minute of your birth... 1:04 pm, February 24, 1976... you were welcome then and you are welcome always, in any way you are able to manifest your presence and spirit with ours! Happy birth day, Pete.
