Walking out to get the mail last week, I noticed that the sun was hitting the house at the same angle and with the same intensity. The air smelled the same. Summer getting shorter, halfway done. A familiar drone to the traffic on Moraga Way; the late afternoon sound of commuters returning home. It feels the same. The same as that last day we were all together. “Let’s take one more photo on the front porch!”
The front porch; where stacks of other photos were taken.
First day of school.
Ready to go Trick-or-Treating.
A Christmas Card.
One more photo before we go.
I didn’t know it would be the last one.
I’m thinking of you John. It was a year ago, and I’m transported back to that date, that moment. We had our penultimate 2.5 days together at the lake and now it was time for Matt to get back to Cambridge and prepare for his school year. We had stretched out our time together as far as we could, wedging it in-between Matt’s attendance at Outside Lands and your work schedule. Do you remember? Matt agreed to a red-eye so we could have as much time together as we could. We left the lake as late as possible. You had to stop at In-n-Out, leaving Matt only an hour to pack before we had to leave for the airport. United flight 408 departing at 8:53 PM, Wednesday August 13th, 2014. A year ago.
It was almost time to go. We were out in front, stalling. Matt was packed, but not ready to leave, not ready to say goodbye. Casey stopped by to pick you up. You two were going to hang out, grab some dinner, and catch up while Dad and I took Matt to SFO. Good thing he came by. He was able to take that last photo. Remember?
I’m not sure what we did on Thursday. I only have text records and date stamps on photos as clues to help me remember, and there are none. I guess it was a day like any other when you were here. My wanting to take in as much as I could of you, as much as the 21-year-old-you would let me. I was always trying to get a reading on how you REALLY were feeling. How you were REALLY liking your job. How you were REALLY dealing with Shelby being in Argentina. I wish I could remember more. There is a blurry vision of us in the kitchen, chatting while I made you food, but I could have it mixed up with any number of other days. I didn’t know this would be the last one.
Your flight back to Colorado left on Friday morning at 10:25. You needed to return early enough to get to work that night. Southwest flight 913 out of Oakland, a convenient time for Dad to drop you off on his way to the office, so I didn’t go. I tried to make you your favorite breakfast or pack something for the flight but you said you weren’t hungry, you’d get something at the airport. There would be plenty of time. A big hug in the driveway. I didn’t know this would be the last one.
You loaded Ally-dog into the back of the car and hopped into the front seat. I waited for you to look up after you buckled your seat-belt. Dad backed the car out and turned down the road. I stood waving from the garage in my plaid flannel pajama pants and fleece pullover. Bye John! See you soon!
You were looking down at your phone. You didn’t see me waving goodbye.
And then, you were gone.








Dear Melissa,
My heart goes out to you & to Paul & Matt.
Your Walk With Me entries are so very vivid, poignant, beautiful & moving! You give such clear expression to what must seem so impossible to describe.
Thank you for sharing.
Warmest best wishes,
Katherine Hatch
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As always, your writing is superb because it comes from within. I am thinking of you and praying for all of you.
Love
Colleen
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Sun, water, snow, mountains….John was so at home in/on all of them and embraced activity that used nature to its fullest. I am reading your post sitting in Squaw Valley. Vivid memories of John, and all of you, here, laughing, schussing, lounging. Missing the completeness of that……huge hugs from us. Love, Shahan
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Dear Melissa, you were on my mind today, possibly because the anniversary of our loss is coming up and by association I thought of you and wondered how you were doing. I just happened to check in on your blog tonight and felt it was some kind of sign to see that you had posted today. We’re on the same wave length somehow but in different parts of our journey. I feel everything you write, but couldn’t have articulated it as honestly and powerfully as you do. I want you to keep writing because through it you will find a kind of peace that passes for some kind of acceptance. Like you, I think of my son every day, though 8 years later, sometimes just briefly. I still believe that the greatest gift our friends can give us is to never forget who we lost. It really matters because that’s what helps keep them with us.
Thinking of you, John and your family and weeping a few tears.
Love,
Josie
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Beautiful Melissa. So tender and moving. Thank you for sharing and may our paths cross soon.
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So, so heartbreaking. Big hugs to you all.
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Still remembering and feeling for you guys. Life is a mystery. He was a wonderful kid.
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Melissa, it’s September 18 and I’m thinking of you and John today. Anniversaries are hard, really quite awful, there’s no way around it. You just have to let it happen and do what makes you feel better, whatever it is. It is an exhausting day, I know, but you have miraculously managed to keep moving forward for a year now, and that is significant.
Love,
Josie
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Thanks so much for this message Josie. So hard. Love to you.
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