Its been a hard few days. I normally don't fancy myself being a woman who functions in denial, but the Chris' birthday has brought it all quite UP, and I am not sleeping much. Just a few minutes ago I thought I would look into some electronically archived letters, and then soon after head for bed.
And I found proof. Proof that I had told him about the place he made for us when I first went to visit him a hundred years ago. In a letter dated 10/8/02, I wrote:
"I want you to know, Chris. I want it to be you getting off that bus, you walking into YOUR embrace, you sitting in - bathed in - the warmth of your space, the space I know you created for us, you walking into that embrace again this summer. "
Later, same letter:
"I want to claim you back from it all, every harm, every hurt , every pain, every dark corner. If only I could. I cannot. My only option? Be here for you and with you or walk out of the miracle of this love I have had with you and known from you practically since I can remember feeling alive at all. So I am right here, Chris. Two hands. Two ears. Huge heart. And I will walk with you anywhere."
So I can go to sleep, then? [Yes.] He knew. I told him. How grateful I was (it is there in the first quoted bit). And how much I loved him (there in the second bit).
