Dear Vicki

Dear Vicki,

I have been thinking a lot lately. About you. Maybe I should say, more, not a lot. Ever since I found out about your illness it was a lot, but now, since your post “Still Me”, I guess it’s more.

I think about your grace and your dignity. The way you inform us, the worried, when you have other things I’m sure you’d rather do, and certainly other things you’d prefer to say. I think about your sons, all of them. Your stories, your husband. Your parents.

And then I think about me. And maybe, in this case, me doesn’t just mean me, although I can’t presume to speak for more than me, but maybe it means all of us: your friends and extended family. But I will tell you how I, and probably they, feel.

It’s hard to say this, because then it means it’s real, and I don’t want it to be. But, here goes.

I don’t want you to go.

Because I know you have amazing doctors and you are so smart and thorough, I know I can hope and pray for a miracle, but I think of your beautiful boys on stage, speaking their truth and alluding to the inevitable, and I get it.

So, I’m going to say it again, I really don’t want you to go.

You were a part of beautiful childhood memories. When I think of hanging out with you, I think of sunlight on our small hometown and your raspy voice. I think of how you would smile and laugh and kind of throw your head back, your curls shaking behind you as you did. Bike riding, laughing, talking of boys and crushes.

And now, hearing your story, seeing your views on life, family and politics even, I think, I wish there wasn’t that thirty years in between. We have such commonalities.

Then I close my eyes, think of that sunlight and that gap in time disappears.

And I’m left still thinking, I don’t want you to go.

I just wanted you to know.

I hope it’s okay to tell you these things, it feels strange and dreamlike that I have to.

You and your family remain in my heart and in my prayers. I wish you comfort, happiness. And time.

Love you.



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