I miss calling you that....Elijah Kent. Such a good name.
Well my friend, I have 100 MG of Wellbutrin pumping through my veins and I'm in a much better place than I was the last time I posted here on your blog.
I had Lunch with your mom this week. I met her downtown and she took me to this awesome sandwich place and we had a great talk. We both seem to have a desire to believe that you are alive and well in a heaven like atmosphere somewhere not so far away. I refuse to believe we are wrong, am I a fool?
I have been helping Ryan and Katie do some demo and painting at their house so they can get it up for sale. I think they are excited and have the normal anxiety of deadlines and the unknown. I am so thankful for that day at your house when you told me something like "you should get to know Ryan, and stay in touch with him." Like you, he has become one of my favorite people to talk to. We were tearing out the ceiling and paneling in the bedroom right off the kitchen on Saturday and he told me that you had slept in that bedroom after your first treatments when Ben had moved up to the attic. We took all of his clothes out of the closet and moved them to the attic where you slept before that. I sat on the floor for a minute and had to just try and picture you wandering around up there, playing guitar, writing a song, whatever. It made me feel close to you for a second and while I was fighting tears, I also had a grin on my ugly mug for a few minutes. I wondered if you could see us? I told myself that you could and that you were happy that we were hanging out and working on the house. Ryan said that one of the hardest parts about moving would be leaving that house where you guys made so many memories. I can only imagine how bitter-sweet it must be for him. I'm going to really miss him but hope he finds everything he's looking for in Portland.
Last night Katie and I were painting the bathroom and Bob stood in the doorway for about 30 minutes with a Box Elder bug crawling up his arm and every time it got close to his neck and face he would start panicking, I kept grabbing it and putting it back on his hand. I couldn't help but wonder what was going on in his little mind. Where he thinks his uncle Elijah is. Do he and Beck understand any of this? What will their memories be of you in 20 years? Will they understand how awesome you are? Will they be able to comprehend the love that you had for life? Will I go visit them in Portland? Will they come to the cabin in Island Park and let me show them my favorite place on earth? lots of wondering. Lots of hoping. its all I can do.
A few weeks from now I will make my way to Colorado for Thanksgiving. It will mark one year since the first time I stopped at your house to see you. You were in the bedroom at the end of the hall. You were bald and skinny and your Chemo had you felling like shit...but I walked in and hugged you and you smiled and I immediately started crying and you said, "its ok" and all I could say was "I'm so sorry." I remember Jonny was there and he came in and you introduced us. I made it home to Grand Junction and at our Thanksgiving table we followed our usual tradition of writing down the things we were thankful for so they could be pulled out of a bowl and read out loud. Mine said, "i'm thankful for a stranger who sat at a barstool at a restaurant and started a conversation with another stranger who needed a friendly face and someone with the same taste in music. Who shared a brief moment and a random conversation. A stranger who is now a friend and a shining example of someone loving a life the way it should be loved.....madly." I guarantee you are going to be a part of this years Thanksgiving too. I'm always going to be thankful for you and your goodness..
I put the note you left on my couch in the frame with the Tom Waits artwork that you gave to me along with your funeral poster and ticket. it hangs by my front door so that every time I leave the house, I will be reminded of greatness
I love and miss you.
FAT hug.
Jentry
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