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I leave you comments on MySpace all the time, so you would think writing this letter would come easy. Heck! It was my idea for people to write you letters and send them to your dad. Still, I have found it pretty near impossible to stop, breathe, and write this. But, here I am. Tuesday morning. My youngest is watching “All Dogs go to Heaven.” Are there dogs there? I have lots of silly questions like that. Is Jesus a good dancer? Do you have your own library?
Sometimes, it just hits me that you are gone. Like, I will be reading or having a conversation, and the knowledge will show up, uninvited. “Nat is Gone.” And it is so starkly real against this life that seems so hazy sometimes, that I have to stop. A punch in the gut. I remind myself to breathe again. The knowing is so painful. I am glad when it fades again, when I can slip back into the day.
But I don’t want to lose you. I am afraid if I don’t hang on to your memory, if I don’t wrestle it to the page, it will be gone. You will be gone.
I miss you.

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