The Day I Will Remember

When so many of the days are heartbreaking and painful and unbelievable and helpless, maybe what you have to do at a time like this is remember a different day. And so, I choose to remember this one, just less than a year ago...

We drove from Madison to North Freedom, Wisconsin on a perfect day. Sunny, some clouds, cool enough, but the air was still warm. Windows open, listening to a mix of 80s hair metal at top volume. Your hand rested on the open window as you stared out, gazing at nothing, peaceful.

We spent the afternoon with scrap metal sculptures and caterpillars and a slight breeze. We examined metal birds made from musical instruments. We stood in a cage containing a giant and ancient cash register. We decided how much money we'd have to be paid to eat one of those fuzzy caterpillars. You said you'd do it for $50. We laughed so much.

We drove without a map or directions, somehow happening upon the ferry that took us across a tiny lake. We ate homemade ice cream that we bought from a stand on the side of the road and watched the water move gently beneath the boat.

We stayed in that evening, resting on the couch, and you were you for awhile and I was me and we were us, just us, like we'd been when we were kids, just tiny teenagers who knew nothing of our own troubles and traumas, who didn't care about anything but laughing and talking and being young and alive. For that day, we were back to who we'd been - there was no wrestling and there was no mental illness, just for that day. There was just you, and you were just Alex.

I have loved you with all of my heart since I was 17 years old, and I will always love you. This was not the world, this was not the life, that you were meant for. I will now just hope and pray that your head has calmed and your soul is resting. You are in my heart forever, Alex.