Friday the 13th of November, how apt. You've been gone six months, 182 days. It's hard to believe it's been so long. Half a year and my heart still aches for you. If only I had known I would lose you, I would have held you one more time. I would have spent one more moment with you. I would not have let you go. I grilled last night and watched the sun go down and the sky turn the color of mercury. A leer jet flew over head and banked toward the airport. I said aloud, "I wish it were you flying into town, Buddy." I know that's how you would announce your return, to fly over our house to say, "Hey, it's ME!" You were always clever that way. I've been thinking of your song, forty-six and two and have wondered if everything was made clear to you just before impact. Forty-six and two can never be. But maybe it is at that moment. Only you know. You've opened the final chapter. But you skipped so many in between. You skipped the chapters where you were to have a home and children. Good times and friends. More fishing trips with Dad. Trips to the mountains and fly fishing in the streams. The leaves are falling off the sycamores again and it's beginning to cool. I bought you the 2010 Farmers Almanac for Christmas. Maybe we can start that garden in the spring. I had no idea you would walk away from me that day. I know how cold you must have been in the rain and wind. How hungry you were too. Too many conditions to fight even for you. You are my hero. I miss your smile and angelic laugh. I miss seeing the world so pure through your eyes. So simple were things that made you laugh. So delicate were things that made you cry. Maybe angels are born this way. I always knew god would take you from me. You were my angel. Forty-six and two is ahead of me if I can learn to shed my skin. To be as pure as you. But it's not my time. I have chapters I have not read. Keep your brother safe for me. I believe he is in these chapters and I hope they have a happy ending. You are my pride and joy, my soul, you are my heart. My Star in the night sky. I remember the last time I hugged you and told you I love you.

I know you were cold. I know you were hungry. I know you were wet. I know you were upset. But I don't know what you were thinking on your hike. Did you think of your brother? Mom and me? Where did you rest? Where did you get the grapefruit? Where are your shoes and socks? Where is your phone? Why did you head south and why hwy 17? We had so much more to do together. I had so much more to learn from you.

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