Dear C,

You would be so proud of your friends! Actually, you must be so proud of your friends, because I know you are very aware of the exciting things going on in their lives. Isn't it crazy that they are all graduating this year? Can you believe how beautiful She has become? You must be so excited for Him to move to NYC - photo editor for Maxim? I could see you in that job, giggling in the background, cheeks red, crooked smile - the best. Will you follow Her in Geneva when she goes for grad school? I'm sure you will. I'm sure you watch over them every day.

I know you watch over us every day.

I am so happy for your friends, but at the same time, a tiny piece of my heart breaks for you. I wonder if you enjoy all of the moments you didn't experience here, in Heaven. Do you have a girlfriend up there? Do you drive? Do you enjoy vodka soda as much as I do? If you do, I hope you always have it with a lime, never a lemon. And be weary of Tequila, it feels good at first, but the liquid courage ultimately turns into semi-solid embarassment. Or so I've heard.

Alumni weekend brought an unexpected surprise for me. We watched old recap videos, and there you were in the stands. Alive. Did you know that I haven't seen a video of you since you left us? To say I couldn't breathe was an understatement. You looked so happy crunched in between Mom & Dad with your videocamera [probably happier than that one time you were stuck in the Super 8 with Mom after she ate that funky pizza]. Your white shirt was a little dirty as usual, and your trucker hat sat crooked on top of your curly hair, it was you. Alive.

Sometimes I forget you were a living person here. That's a hard statement for me to make, but I see you as an Angel, a spirit we refer to all the time, a figure we will always look up to. Seeing the video and the accomplishments of your friends leads me to wonder where you would be now if your time on Earth was extended.

I take comfort in the fact that I truly believe your life could not have been taken at a better time.

It would have been exciting for you to graduate high school, turn 18 and buy special magazines, or turn 19 and be able to buy Mom some wine. It would have been so cool for you to be able to drink, and drive [not at the same time though]. Most of all, I wish that you were standing up with Rob and Mark when it was our day, and not dangling from my flowers.

It's easy to think of all of the 'good' moments you missed, but I think C, in your case, the tough moments that you were guaranteed to go through would have overshadowed these bright spots. I believe that what lay ahead of you post high school would have changed you as a person, and that happy-go-lucky, goofy guy we remember you as, would be different. Our struggles here are nothing compared to the struggles, both physical and mental, that you would have had to experience, none of which we would wish upon anyone, least of all you.

In a twisted way C, October 17, 2005 saved you as much as it saved us. It saved you from pain, stress, and uncertainty. It saved us from a different kind of pain, stress, and uncertainty. This is not to say that these four years have been anything even close to easy, but should the timing have been different, there would be memories of your pain and struggles in addition to the memories of your laugh and poor spelling. Our memories of you are the brightest of bright, and for that, I know I am comforted and forever grateful.

I can only imagine the fun you are having up in Heaven with P, G, S and L. The fun you are having laying all those coins all over the house, brining the bunny to the backyard, and finding us [me] parking spots at the mall. You must be giggling at Mom's dancing and Dad's sleeveless exercise top, R's power alleys and that time I fell facefirst into that mud puddle at Loblaws. This is the life you should be living, the same giggly, drooly, wiggly life you lived here. I have no doubts that you are happy, healthy, and very good looking up in Heaven.

I hope you have no doubts that you are missed every single minute of every single day here. We take comfort in knowing your life was fulfilled by 17, and I hope you take comfort in knowing that we continue to include you in fulfilling our lives here. We all wear your bracelets, we still enjoy Peppercorn Ranch fries, and if we all had the same shoe size, we'd wear your runners. Only Mom is lucky enough to be able to do that.

Thanks for the laughs, the coins, and the parking spots, Love Ya.

Peace.