1:38 a.m. - 2003-02-26
And I spent my evening wrapped up in the arms of my Boy, needing something that I could believe close enough so that I could touch it, so that when I started to not believe for a second I could reach out and he would be there. And because it was so easy to believe in him, it was just as easy to still believe it wasn't true. Because I needed it not to be true any more.
Finally, though, I left. It was late out, like it often is when I leave him behind, because it takes me so long to let him go, even if it's only for a few hours. I stepped out the door and found snow falling ever so gently onto my face. It wasn't cold, and it wasn't windy, it was just snow, drifting slowly to earth in tiny perfect flakes. And I knew that the angels were throwing a party in heaven, just for you, because they already loved you just as much as we do. And I reached out and touched the confetti from your party, and I looked up at the sky. You'd think it should have been cloudy, because of the snow, and it was. But peeking through the cloud was one star that didn't even waver as the clouds drifted by. At first, I thought it was a planet, but then I found where the planets were supposed to be, and it wasn't a planet. And I knew it was you, smiling at me, watching us all and reminding us how much you love us and remembering how much we love you. I drove home, that short familiar drive I know so well, and the star didn't disappear once. And I think then maybe I started to believe it just a little bit, because I could see you, up there, watching me. And even though I don't know what I believe about that or what I feel, I knew that, and I can't explain how.
Then I got home, and I said good night to you as I opened the front door. I walked upstairs and turned on the computer, like I have so many nights before. And I sat down, and I read this.
And I believed it.
And Laurie, I cried so hard I thought my heart was going to break. And I felt bad for crying, because I knew that if you were watching me (and I'd like to think there are better things to be watching, like Ed Belfour in his underwear - woo hoo!), you'd tell me a bad joke and give me a noogie and tell me to stop crying, silly. But I couldn't help it. I wasn't crying for you. You're having a party with those angels up there, laughing it up with all the hockey greats of the past. (You should find my uncle up there. His name is David, and he loved hockey even more than you did. He died too young, too, so I want you to take care of him for my mum, ok? Because I know she misses him a lot.) I was crying for me, because Laurie, I don't know how to do this. All I knew was that I had to write, so I did. And it's all I can do, and I'll keep doing it. I'll do it for you, Laurie, because you believed that I could, and you made me believe in myself.
Thank you, Laurie. Thank you for giving me more than you ever knew you did. Thank you for making me a better person just by knowing you. Thank you for letting me have just a little piece of your heart, just for a little while.
I guess nobody with a heart that big could live for very long.
I miss you, Laurie. Don't worry, I won't forget to have that copy of Harry Potter sent special delivery to Heaven for you, ok? And I'll send you all the other ones, too, and every time I read them I'll think of you. If you really want to help me out, could you do something about my Oilers? They're really not doing so hot. Keep an eye on Rachel and Mother Mary for us, and make sure Stef doesn't get too out of line.
I love you, Laurie. I always will.