A birthday gift

I haven’t been able to write as much about BC as I thought I would when I started this blog. I’m not a very good writer and I can’t stand the thought that I might not do him justice. He still lives in my heart and my memories are very strong but when I try write about him I am never satisfied. I write and then rewrite and yet when I read what I’ve written I decide I haven’t captured him at all. I’m fiercely protective of his memory so I end up erasing everything.

But I have to write about him today. You see, I got another letter from him today. Actually I found another letter from him today. BC was a prolific writer. He started writing a journal when he was six and he never stopped. I have all of his journals. One year for his birthday I had them bound in leather as a present. That was his most favorite birthday gift from me and I so got laid that night. He was a great letter and note writer too. Nearly every day for 32 years I would find some sort of missive on my pillow, plate, car seat, or maybe in one of my books. They could be anywhere. Their subject matter varied. One day it might be a poem. The next day it might be something he had forgotten to tell me that morning. Sometimes it might be a joke. And occasionally it might be an attempt to have the last word in an argument. (Huh...Like I ever let that happen.) More often than not it was to tell me that he loved me. I kept each one. I have boxes of them.

After he died I realized just how much I missed getting them. I would find myself absentmindedly looking for that day’s note only to snap out of it and realize that there wouldn’t be any more. That was hard.

This morning I pulled out suitcases from the luggage closet so that I could begin to pack for my trip. I laid them out on the bed in one of the bedrooms. After I opened them I noticed the corner of a piece of paper peeking out of an interior pocket. I pulled it out and immediately recognized the handwriting on the envelope. It was BC’s. I stopped what I was doing and took it downstairs. I sat for the longest time just turning it over and over in my hands. I wanted to savor it before I finally opened and read it. I wondered when he had put it there. What had he written? How had I missed it before?

Finally I couldn’t stand it any longer and I tore it open. I read it repeatedly and frankly I haven’t been able to stop smiling. I can share the last line of the letter with you. It was pure BC. It said “Thank you for insuring that I never had to hunt for a date on Friday night for the last 3 decades.” I’m glad now that I didn’t find it sooner. I consider it an early birthday present. And I think it may be my most favorite gift from him. “Thanks, Babe.”