you died yesterday and it felt like seeing the last of something run out knowing it will no longer be manufactured. the end. i asked for the room to myself to say goodbye. not because you could hear me, but because i needed to hear me say it to you.
i know you’re there but strangely my sentimental nature does not extend to loved ones looking down from heaven. but today it would be nice to believe that. to imagine these words will reach you.
thank you for living long enough so that you were flesh and blood to my flesh and blood.
thank you for making the same things to eat every holiday so there is this taste left behind for me to remember you by.
thank you for saying you didn’t like my tattoo and then never saying it again.
thank you for having that strange hanging lamp that dripped oil down the strings surrounding a bronze colored statue which both appalled and fascinated me. i wish i had one.
thank you for giving my without-family-friends a place to feel at home in for so many years.
thank you for having matching pink velour armchairs that i could unashamedly enjoy—- at your house.
thank you for giving up american comfort to live in png for two years. just because we were there. my only memory of that is popsicles, but it’s a story i’m forever proud to tell.
thank you for writing me aerogrammes and mailing birthday cards all the way to papua new guinea for my entire childhood. i kept them. they spell love to me.
thank you for sending me stationary with horses and puppies on it long after i fell in love with boys instead. i secretly liked using it.
thank you for having a spare ‘oom filled with magical collections of things. even when i was a real grown up, i found myself wandering there to take it in.
thank you for telling me you loved me even when you might not have been certain it was me. i needed that.
and most of all…
thank you for taking the phone call and sending grandpa on the hours long car chase that led to my being adopted. my life began as a miracle because you believed in god’s plans and purpose.
thank you. love you. —kristi